


As Old as Time

by Arcawolf



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Gaslighting, Kirigiri ain't got time for your bullshit, Multi, Mystery, No spoilers for DRV3, Psychological Horror, Supernatural Elements, double meanings, eldritch horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-01-15 23:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 57
Words: 186,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12331014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcawolf/pseuds/Arcawolf
Summary: The Kirigiris have always been amazing detectives. The latest of their line, Kirigiri Kyoko, is no exception. Together with her partner Naegi Makoto, she's unraveled nearly every case presented to her. So, when a murder offers the chance to investigate the strange, suspicious church known as Hope's Peak, Kirigiri accepts the case without a second thought. Hope's Peak is hiding something, she's sure of it, and she's ready to uncover its secrets.(But sometimes the answer isn't to dig deeper. Sometimes the answer is to run. Run, and never look back.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I was going to write that Togami story, but I only got one chapter done before this one flipped out and demanded to be written _now_.
> 
> At this point in time, I have played NDRV3. Some characters from there will be appearing in this story because they just fit so well, but there will be no character spoilers. For now, I am also going to ask that you do not talk about game spoilers in the comments for those who have not completed the game yet.
> 
> This is an AU universe where Hope's Peak Academy does NOT exist. Likewise, there are no Ultimate talents. Because of this, you'll see some difference in characterization. (Komaeda, for example, no longer has Ultimates to place on a pedestal) The characters are also around their DR3 ages.
> 
> This story is inspired by gngm-kmkm Hope's Peak Church AU on tumblr, but will not be following their plot.
> 
> Updates are going to be only on Wednesdays for now.

_“The wind howled in the night. Trees shuddered with its passing. Their branches carved out stark shadows against the backdrop of lightning and clouds. They were dark, angry things; swollen with rain and fit to burst. They oozed cold drops that froze on the clothes of those they encountered, biting through the fabric like a mouse–”_

“A mouse?” Kirigiri repeated, not taking her eyes off the laptop she was working at. “I would have expected spiders. It fits the genre better.”

“That’s what it says,” Naegi said. He laid stomach-down across their bed, feet kicking as he flicked to the next page of his magazine. “I guess mice can be frightening if you get past their adorable faces and cute little eyes.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Mice bite.”

Grinning, Naegi slid off the bed. He crept up behind Kirigiri and whispered, “What if I bit you? Would you still think I’m adorable?”

Very calmly, Kirigiri reached up and flicked him in the nose.

“Okay, okay! Got it. Kyoko’s working.” Arms raised in surrender, Naegi retreated to the safety of the bed’s covers. He rolled himself up in them, and then returned to his dramatic reading as Kirigiri started typing again.

_“The castle stood alone at the top of the hill. It was impossibly high, almost too high to be built by human hands. Its keeps touched the sky and whenever lightning struck, their gaping windows were like faces in the darkness. Ice had built up on the eaves –”_

“So, what exactly is the plot here?”

“No idea,” Naegi said. “There’s like three pages of description I need to get through to meet the main character.”

“Sounds like a real investigation,” Kirigiri said flatly.

“Are you holding a grudge?” Naegi asked, a trace of glee seeping into his voice. “You are holding a grudge! Asahina-san didn’t mean to give us the wrong location.”

Kirigiri continued to type.

Naegi said, “You know she’s sorry about that.”

“Shouldn’t you automatically side with your girlfriend?” Kirigiri asked.

“. . . Can I be the wise old man who doesn’t take sides?”

She smiled. Her braid fell over her shoulder as she tossed her head to look at him. “I’m kidding. I know it was an accident.”

“Just checking. So, are you sure I can’t help with the report?”

Kirigiri said, “There’s no need. I’m . . . there. Finished.”

She clicked the mouse and sent the report off, wiping her gloved hands clean of imagined sweat afterwards. Naegi, sensing he was welcome to invade her personal space again, crawled off the bed.

“You’re always teasing me,” he said with a mock sigh. He hung off the side of Kirigiri’s chair, and stuck out his lower lip as he pouted at her.

“I can’t help it. It’s too easy.”

Naegi peered up at her. “What if I started teasing you? What would you do?”

“That depends. What would you be doing?” She looked down at him and raised her eyebrows in challenge.

Naegi held back laugher. His hand slid up Kirigiri’s thigh. “Well, first I think I’ll –”

At that exact second, Kirigiri’s cellphone went off.

“. . .It’s Togami-kun, isn’t it?” Naegi mumbled.

Kirigiri looked at the caller ID. “It’s Togami-kun.”

As Kirigiri held the phone to her ear, Naegi groaned, “A big case just came up.”

She listened to what Togami had to say. “A big case just came up.”

Naegi’s entire body drooped. “He wants us to come in.”

Kirigiri stood. “Let’s go.”

Head bowed, Naegi trudged after her.

* * *

“Tea?” Togami, the Chief of Police, asked.

“I’ll pass,” Kirigiri said. Next to her, Naegi shook his head. He had pouted the way here, but perked up once they slipped out of the car. He was good at that, slipping into his professional mask. Although she suspected it had less to do with pretending and more that Naegi simply liked talking to others.

Togami went ahead and poured himself a cup. “Have either of you heard of Hope’s Peak?”

“The big church that opened up a couple years ago?” Naegi said. “Yes.”

“Good.” Togami leaned back and looked at Kirigiri. “I assume you’ve investigated it.”

“Wait, why?” Naegi asked. “It’s just a church, isn’t it?”

“It seems to be. And that’s exactly why it’s so odd,” she said. “A relatively unknown religion with no clear sponsors or mean of income buying a large plot of land and constructing a church within a few years? It’s suspicious. I’ve never seen them engage with the community or try to recruit new members either, which is generally how a church behaves. I think it’s a front.”

Naegi didn’t seem sure about her suspicions, but he didn’t argue. “Okay, so what did you find?”

“I . . .” She looked away; she hated having to say the words she did next. “I didn’t find anything.”

Togami’s chair creaked as he leaned forward to listen closely. She hated that. It always made her feel like she needed to defend herself.

“Not to say I didn’t find _anything_ ,” she said, “but I didn’t find what I was looking for. Their online presence is extremely limited. There’s no member forums, nor any for ex-members. I couldn’t find any articles covering them either. It’s as if the world keeps forgetting they’re there. While I have the names of the ones in charge of this church, their online presence is likewise poor. I couldn’t even find out which country they were born in.”

“Okay, that does sound super suspicious,” Naegi said.

“I’ve had my eye on them for some time, as well,” Togami said. “Like you, I have also been unable to pinpoint their activities. I’m glad you’re curious because you’re going to be learning a lot more about them.”

He opened his desk drawer, and then slipped a file folder towards them. Naegi immediately looked to Kirigiri to open it. She did so carefully, and spread the photographs inside so she could see them all at once. Naegi’s face creased with disgust. She didn’t need to look at him to know that. Even though they dealt with dead bodies every month, he never seemed to grow used to it.

“Murder,” Kirigiri said. “Quite a strange one. What’s that on her skin?”

“The DNA results haven’t come in yet, but we believe it to be her own blood,” Togami said.

“The culprit sketched sigils on the victim using her blood,” Kirigiri echoed. “This is a ritual.”

“That’s what we believe, as well.”

She frowned and looked closer at the picture. Although she knew Togami would provide them with a victim profile, her eyes latched onto the corner of a bench and she immediately began calculating size. She glanced at Naegi. No, the victim was not quite his height. She spied a wound to the stomach. A common site for a murder meant to catch by surprise, or if the culprit’s motive revolved around a pregnancy. The body was in a neatly trimmed lawn, which meant it was frequented – an odd place to leave a corpse unless one _wanted_ it discovered. That could very well be the case if some religious fanatic was the murderer.

“You said _we_ , Togami-kun,” Naegi said. “Is there someone else we’re working with?”

“No,” Togami said. “However, I was alerted to the body by the church’s pastor. He also noted the ritualic aspects and is worried there is an extremist element developing under his watch.”

“And that’s why you want us to take this case,” Kirigiri said. “Not only because of this possible extremist movement, but because you want to figure out what this church truly is.”

“You’re the best team I have,” Togami said. “If there’s anything rotten, you’ll find it.”

“You mean Kyoko will find it,” Naegi said. “I’m just there to cheer her on.”

She didn’t respond to the semi-serious remark. While Naegi didn’t have her detective instincts, he did have something equally valuable: a charm and affinity with even the harshest of people. It was what prompted her to choose him as a partner, as a solution for her own weaknesses, and what had eventually brought them even closer.

“It doesn’t matter to me who finds what, so long as it gets done,” Togami said.

Naegi nodded. He pulled a photo closer to himself, and studied it.

“What’s her name?” he asked softly, as if the dead could hear.

“I’m not certain, but I believe I’ve matched the victim’s identity with a missing person’s report. The details are in the profile,” Togami said.

“The pastor is Komaeda Nagito, correct?” Kirigiri asked.

“Yes. I typed out the transcript of our initial interview for you,” Togami said. He moved the victim’s profile aside so that she could see the transcript underneath. A small picture was attached via paper clip to the corner.

“This is Komaeda?” Naegi freed the photo and held it up. “I think I’ve met him. I . . . I think I showed him around town or something years ago. Must have been around when he moved in. He definitely looks familiar.”

“Maybe he’ll remember you,” Kirigiri said as she gathered up the photos. “It would be nice to have familiarity on our side.”

Naegi’s face scrunched up. “Someone like me? I doubt he’d remember.”

“You’d be surprised,” Kirigiri said. “People remember kindness more often than you think, especially when they are new to the area.”

Kirigiri collected up the file folder and its contents, then stood in preparation for their departure. Naegi dashed ahead for the sole purpose of holding the door for her –

“One more thing.”

They turned to Togami.

Togami pushed his glasses up his nose. “Bear in mind that no one has any idea what Hope’s Peak and its beliefs are. I can’t say what or whom you will find in there. Be careful.”

Naegi grinned. “Don’t worry, Togami-kun. We got this.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Could you go over the victim profile for me?” Kirigiri asked.

Naegi pulled the folder out from the backseat of the car. He cleared his throat. “Togami-kun believes her name is Nanami Chiaki. Last seen October 19th pulling out of her driveway around seven am by a neighbour. Parents are married and living abroad. No relatives living nearby and no significant other. Last seen wearing . . . hold on . . .Yep. Same clothes as in the crime scene photo. I think. Do you want to doublecheck?”

“No,” she said, as she scowled at the car ahead. (How she hated poor drivers!) “If you say they’re the same, they’re the same.”

He returned to the profile. “Missing person’s report was sent in by an employer after she failed to appear for work for several days. Her boss contacted one of her neighbours, who confirmed her absence and then contacted her friends and parents. The missing person report was put out October 25th.”

“October. That’s over a month ago. Makoto, could you look at the photographs of the body?”

“Sure.” He did so promptly. “What am I looking for?”

“Are there signs of decomposition?”

He was silent for a few long seconds. “No. I don’t think so.”

“I see.”

“Guess this isn’t a straightforward case,” Naegi said.

“Our initial belief was this was a ritualic killing. Did you expect it to be simple?”

“No, but I can hope,” he said.

She spared a moment to pat him on the head. “Anything else?”

“She’s a year older than us. There’s a physical description, but we can verify that ourselves. Ah, here’s a picture of her. Togami-kun’s probably right. Definitely looks like her. She looks like she was a nice person. She didn’t deserve this.”

“I know,” Kirigiri said.

Naegi took a moment before he kept going. “No known health problems. No criminal background; was unknown to the police prior to this. If she was killed for the reason we think she was . . . man, talk about bad luck. Hey? Here’s something interesting. According to several of her coworkers, she seemed stressed the last couple of weeks before she disappeared, but wouldn’t say why.”

“Being involved with a cult could be very stressful.”

“I know we have to think that way, but I hate it,” Naegi said. “She looks like such a sweet person. I don’t want to imagine her being involved with something dangerous.”

“That’s the reality,” Kirigiri said as they pulled into the morgue’s parking lot. “Judging by appearances is a perfect way to be blindsided.”

Togami had given her the location of the body in the morgue, so they headed straight for that. The mortician in that area glanced at them and returned to work; they visited enough that they were on a first name basis with the security guards. She cracked her knuckles, pulled open the drawer with the body and set it on a nearby table.

Yes, based off what she had seen, this was Nanami Chiaki. She looked almost identical to the missing person’s image, save for the gaping wound in her abdomen. A ring of blood surrounded it, thick and flaky as it had been dammed and absorbed by the clothes she had been wearing. No other wounds were visible. If she had been conscious at the time, Kirigiri imagined that it must have hurt badly. But death had slackened the victim’s features and the thoughts the victim possessed at the time of her demise were forever lost.

She must say, if this had been a religious ritual, she understood the choice of sacrifice. The victim was small, surprisingly smaller than Naegi despite being older. Her hair lay right above the shoulder with bangs covering her forehead. To Kirigiri, the victim looked young, like she should still be in high school. Innocent. The perfect type of sacrifice. Her pale skin made the bloody sigils stand out, as if her body had been designed for this sole purpose.

That’s when she noticed Naegi was no longer beside her.

“Again? You act as though you’ve never seen a body or a woman naked before,” she said.

Naegi, eyes turned away and nearly standing in the corner, said, “It’s like I’m violating her privacy.”

“She’s dead. She doesn’t care.” Kirigiri paused. She adopted a gentler tone. “She’ll want someone to figure out what happened to her.”

Naegi exhaled. Hands stuffed in his pocket, he trudged over. He scanned the body and delivered his diagnosis. “I’m only seeing the one wound. Looks like a stab wound to the liver.”

“Help me turn her over.” They did so and Kirigiri studied the back. “No further injuries here. I concur with your assessment. So far, the evidence is pointing to a single stab wound and death from blood loss. . .”

“Ah, Kirigiri-san. Naegi-kun.”

One of the younger morticians poked her head in and approached. Kirigiri merely glanced at her, then returned to the body. Next to her, Naegi immediately started up a conversation with the mortician without her. That was fine. The mortician didn’t want to talk to her anyways. The staff found her too aloof and hated that she acted like ‘the others didn’t know anything.’ It wasn’t her fault that the morticians would rather deal with investigators who couldn’t tell the ulna from the radius.

While the other two spoke in the background, Kirigiri unzipped the bag holding the victim’s clothes. Yes, these looked exactly like the ones she had disappeared in. She flattened them out, checking their condition as she did so. Clean, apart from the bloodstain surrounding a hole in the shirt and sweater where the murder weapon had pierced. She raised the shirt to her nose, and took a big sniff.

“Kyoko . . . why?” Naegi asked, looking as though he wanted to say much more.

“Detergent. I can’t smell any,” she said. She fought to keep the derision out of her tone as she spied the repelled face of the mortician. Shouldn’t someone who worked with dead bodies understand? “She disappeared over a month ago in these same clothes. Yet, I see no sign of dirt or grime.”

“You wanted to check whether they had been washed before her death,” Naegi concluded correctly. He walked over to stand beside her. “Maybe she changed out of them, and then her killer forced her to put these clothes on again before she died.”

“It’s possible, but why?”

Naegi shrugged with one shoulder. “Religious ritual? She may have also washed them during that time she was missing.”

“Again, it’s possible. What I’m looking for now is whether the body was frozen for the time between her disappearance and discovery.”

Kirigiri looked to the mortician, who stared back. Naegi cleared his throat.

“Did you find any evidence of that when the body came in?” Naegi asked.

“No,” the mortician said. “Her clothes were a bit damp, but we think it was from dew, meaning –”

“I know what that means,” Kirigiri cut in. It meant the body had been there for at least a few hours in the early morning.

An awkward silence followed. She wondered what else the mortician wanted.

“Thank you,” Naegi said. “That does help a lot. I’ll let you know if we find anything else.”

The mortician left soon after that. Naegi rejoined Kirigiri at the corpse’s side, and she gave him a hard stare.

“Don’t encourage her like that,” Kirigiri said. “This isn’t her case.”

The way Naegi held himself was reminiscent of someone trying to sneak past a lion without waking it. “Remember that discussion we had about not only working with me?”

“This is different,” Kirigiri said. “I’ve watched her. She _stares_ at you, sometimes.”

“She does?” Naegi said, cheeks going red. “I - I never noticed. You know I –”

“I’m not worried about you,” she said honestly. “But if she’s willing to do that when I’m around, then she has no respect for me and I owe her no respect in return.”

“I guess I can’t argue too much with that,” Naegi said. He nudged her. “Hey, if she ever starts _staring_ and makes you uncomfortable, tell me. I’ll take care of it.”

“That’s not necessary. I’m not worried about you.”

He smiled. “It would make me feel better.”

She considered his request in the back of her mind, but only that. The bulk of her attention were on the strange sigils sketched with blood on the victim’s skin. They were not random; each line had been carefully added. However, these were not symbols she had ever seen before. She quickly snapped a few photos.

“We’re done here,” she said. She glanced at Naegi for confirmation, which he gave.

The two of them cleaned up and put the body back. She checked her watch; not bad, they were still on schedule. They would be at the church by noon. The two of them walked outside, and found the silver sheen of their car . . .

“Hey! _Hey!_ ”

She picked up her speed.

“Yo, Naegi-chi! Wait up!”

She cursed in her mind.

Heavy feet clomped after them. A green jacket, worn like a cape rather than a piece of clothing, flapped after the man. The man waved after them frantically, fingers spread in a way that represented his hair which stuck out in all places. The man nearly tripped over his sandals as he drew close, and his large, fumbling steps of recovery brought him in front of them. She wrinkled her nose. An odour rose off him, one of marijuana or whatever drug he was currently smoking.

“Hi, Hagakure-kun,” Naegi said, as if none of the warning signs she had seen reached him.

“Yo, man. Guess what? I finally figured it out!”

“Figured out what?” Naegi asked.

“Tattoos!” Hagakure said, and his eyes widened as he said so. “Like, they didn’t make any sense. It’s ink on your skin, but everyone keeps saying all your skin cells keep coming off so it doesn’t make sense that tattoos stay around for so long.”

“Actually,” Naegi began, “that’s not quite –”

“So, I asked myself: what if they weren’t _really_ tattooing the skin. What if they’re after something else. And I thought about it. I asked myself what would the government be interested in tattooing.”

Her brain felt like It was cringing. _Makoto, don’t . . ._

“And what did you come up with?” Naegi asked.

 _Of course you did_.

“Your aura!” Hagakure grabbed Naegi’s shoulder. “You get it, don’t you? Your aura comes from your _soul_ , and that’s what they’re after. That’s how they get you. It’s one of the government’s ways of keeping you in line. It happened to a friend of a friend of mine. He got a tattoo and then he went all weird and zombie-like so I know I’m right.”

“Thanks,” Naegi said, somehow managing to sound like he meant it. He slowly pried off Hagakure’s large hands. “We don’t have any tattoos, so don’t worry about us. I’ll keep what you said in mind.”

Hagakure patted his shoulder. “I knew you were a cool guy. Just don’t tell anyone you heard it from me. If they hear I figured out their game. . . What if they’re listening right now?”

Hagakure groped in his jacket and pulled a tinfoil hat out of nowhere. He jammed it on his head and ran off like a chicken on fire.

“Why do you humour him?” Kirigiri asked wearily.

“He’s harmless,” Naegi said. “It only took a couple of minutes. Let’s get going.”

Their car rumbled down the road. At this hour of the morning, traffic was always full and slow. That was fine for her as only half her mind was on the road; the other half was busy recapping the facts and categorizing them neatly. So far, the clues did seem to point towards a religious ritual of some kind, although she was suspicious that it was the church’s pastor who had raised the alarm. Perhaps the ritual had been carried out under his orders, but it had gone wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d seen a death onstage that occurred because someone had swapped a fake knife with a real one.

She turned onto a road leading out of town. Hope’s Peak Church lay in the countryside by its lonesome. Not surprising. If they wanted a large plot of the land, that wasn’t readily available in the city. Traffic had nearly died out at this point; apart from the occasional car driving in the opposite direction, she saw no one else. The road stretched out into the distance, casting an illusion that it never ended.

The clouds were darker here. the news had been ambivalent on whether it would rain, but she was leaning towards the affirmative now. Their car passed into a patch of shadows, and it almost seemed to be evening for a moment.

“Makoto, read me . . .”

“Togami-kun’s report on Komaeda? On it. The call came at six twenty-three in the morning, yesterday. Komaeda Nagito reported a body on the front lawn of his church. He described the victim as a stranger whose stomach was covered in blood. Togami-kun reports that Komaeda sounded quiet and rushed, like he was afraid of being overheard.”

“Nothing about the sigils?” Kirigiri asked.

“Not in the call. Togami-kun responded to the call – I bet it was because he was curious – and took Owada-kun and Ishimaru-kun for backup. Koizumi-san took the crime scene photos. I’m looking at them now, and wherever Nanami-san was killed, I don’t think it was here. I don’t see any blood on the grass, and there’s no signs of a scuffle. They reported that the murder weapon was missing from the scene. There were no visible footprints, but the ground was dry so it’s hard to say whether footprints would have shown up. At the time of their arrival, Komaeda was the only one aware of the body’s presence.”

Naegi flipped a page. “Komaeda claims he came across the body while walking through the garden. He ran inside and called the police right away. He says the body could not have been there last night because his fellow churchmates would have spotted it. He is unaware of any suspicious behaviour from his flock, does not know the victim and is unaware of anyone with a grudge against the church. When Togami-kun showed him a picture of one of the sigils, Komaeda claimed he did not recognize it.”

“Funny how he knew she was dead when he called,” Kirigiri said. “He never checked the body’s vital signs. And he you didn’t say he mentioned the sigils on the phone call.”

“It’s possible he forgot to mention checking her pulse. If he didn’t look that closely, I can see how he would have missed the sigils. A lot are under her clothes.

“. . . Yes, they are.” Curious. She leaned over to glance at the crime scene photo. Yes, just as the blood stain suggested. The victim had been clothed at her time of discovery, and the knife pierced through both her shirt and her sweater. Yet the sigils had gone under them. Had the victim been compliant? Had the sigils been traced before the stabbing?

Naegi said. “That seems to be everything that’s relevant.”

“Perfect timing. I believe that’s Hope’s Peak straight ahead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you expect the dead person to be anyone else? XD
> 
> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri and Naegi have their first encounter with the church.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise update!
> 
> I think it goes without saying, but I do not necessarily agree with any political or religious views expressed by the characters in this story. Any opinions of that type expressed in this story are those I believe the characters themselves would hold.

Kirigiri Kyoko had never been a religious person. Her childhood and brain seemed specially designed to promote atheism. Her grandfather claimed that since the day she had learned to crawl, she had expressed an intense – and skeptic curiosity – about the world. For the first Christmas she remembered, she had received a magnifying glass. It hadn’t been a magical holiday, however; she had been much too curious for her own good. Mentions of Santa Claus had faced questions about how one man could travel the world in a night; likewise, later the Easter Bunny was met with skepticism about how a rabbit could manufacture chocolate. Her grandfather, being an honest man, hadn’t tried to keep up the charade. Thus, as a very young child, Kirigiri rejected fantasy. When she grew older and learned of religion, she rejected that, too.

Sometimes though, now that she was older, now that she had Naegi and played the audience for many of his childhood stories, she wondered if she had lost something; if by refusing to imagine and dream she had missed out on something important. She didn’t like to think about it, but Naegi seemed _alive_ sometimes in a way she wasn’t; as if she was a robot and whomever had assembled her had forgot to install a few parts. For she certainly couldn’t understand why he allowed people like Hagakure to waste his time. And even though she had been with him for three years, she still didn’t understand why he had chosen someone like herself.

She couldn’t help those morbid thoughts from surfacing as they approached the gate to Hope’s Peak. If this was going to be a long investigation, at least the church seemed like a nice place to be. A hedge fence separated the parking lot from the road, granting much desired privacy. Though she didn’t know how much more privacy the church needed as they were on the outskirts of town. She had expected that to mean there would be less traffic, but she’d underestimated how much. Hope’s Peak hadn’t just chosen a site outside of town; they had also chosen one off the beaten path. She couldn’t see any neighbours nearby, and her map wasn’t showing any either. Not unless trees counted. That, or the swamp that lurked somewhere in the forest in the church’s backyard.

They didn’t wait too long at the gate. A woman stepped out of the shadows to greet them and Kirigiri would never tell anyone, but she hadn’t even noticed the figure was there until she moved. The woman was a nun; there was no other reason for her to be wearing a religious habit. She approached them slowly, as if participating in a procession. For some reason, Kirigiri found her eyes drawn to the shoulders, to the hips. Something about the way this woman moved put her on edge.

A few strands of hair poked out from under the woman’s veil. Blue eyes met hers. Kirigiri had the uneasy feeling that this woman was trying to appear non-threatening when she wasn’t; it was like a wolf masquerading as a rabbit.

“What is your business here?” the woman asked. Her voice was lighter and more feminine than Kirigiri expected.

She flashed her badge. “I am Detective Kirigiri Kyoko. I’m here to investigate the incident.”

“Yes, we’ve been expecting you.” The woman peered past Kirigiri. “Is that your partner?”

Naegi smiled and waved. “Yep! My name’s Naegi Makoto. What’s yours?”

“It’s . . . uh. . . Ikusaba Mukuro.”

There was a certain jumpiness Kirigiri observed when Naegi asked that. A certain hesitation and nervousness in the woman’s body language. Kirigiri squinted and closely studied the way Ikusaba was looking at her boyfriend.

. . . Suddenly, she had a theory about why Ikusaba set her on edge.

“Could you open these gates?” Kirigiri prompted.

Ikusaba nodded and got to it. Naegi whistled as the iron gates opened, seeming surprised that Ikusaba could move them on her own. Kirigiri reminded herself it meant nothing, and then pulled into the parking lot. Once they secured a spot, the two stepped out of the car.

“Wow,” Naegi said.

“This must have cost a fortune,” Kirigiri observed.

The church had been easily visible over the hedge fence and Kirigiri had seen pictures, so they hadn’t gone in completely unaware of what awaited them. Still, like all things, the church seemed much bigger in person. If she went by windows, then the main building was three stories high; however, judging by their spread, the ceilings were higher than usual. Taller still were the twin towers that rose on either side of the main building. These stood at twice the height, topped by sharp spires that tapered off to a point. The main building’s roof was rounded, capped with gold like the spires, while the rest of the building was rustic ivory. On the top floor of the main building, there was a rose window and she thought she saw the metal of a bell peeking through the gaps. The outside walls were without carvings or decorations and it gave the large church a feeling of incompleteness. Perhaps they had run out of money before they could decorate it. Building this had obviously been expensive and once again, she wondered where Komaeda had gotten so much money.

Despite their intimidating size, the front doors opened quite easily. Kirigiri could sense Ikusaba behind them, following them. She paid Ikusaba no attention, not wanting to draw Naegi’s attention to her. It was childish, but she reached over and squeezed Naegi’s hand. Just to rub in that she could.

The exterior had been bare, but they’d remedied that mistake in the interior. The doors opened into an entrance hall with sloping walls that made it seem as if they were passing under archways. Gold-trimmed ribs ran up their sides and between them, the symbols of some archaic language had been carved into the white walls. Admittingly, Kirigiri’s knowledge of church architecture was very limited. She could tell though, as they passed through the makeshift arches, that they had entered the main body of the church. The ceiling soared high above them, reachable only with help from the ladders on firetrucks. Along the borders of the rectangular room, roman-style columns sprouted from the ground; she suspected they provided no structural support.

The floor was almost bare. That surprised her. The other churches she visited had pews for their worshippers to sit. This one only had a narrow black carpet that rolled up to and onto the chancel, like a red carpet for a celebrity. Windows had strategically been placed in the church’s rear so that they funneled sunlight and presented it as a spotlight-like beam. One of those beams fell on the center of the altar. Clever, if she did say so.

To the left and right of the altar, carved furls protruded from the walls. They looked like waves and that would be very fitting, considering the stained-glass window behind it. The colours there were all dark, but she was certain she could make out a churning sea and dark clouds. There was something else, as well. Something purplish-black that didn’t seem to have a clear form like the clouds and waves. It was coils upon coils, curling into itself and reaching outwards and she had no idea what it represented. Her immediate guess was that this had something to do with a creation myth, but she knew nothing about this church’s beliefs.

“Did you go to church when you were younger?” she asked Naegi.

“My mom did, but she stopped before I was born,” Naegi said.

“Ah, Detective Kirigiri-san.”

She looked to her left. There was someone in one of the open doorways, slowly approaching them. He kept his hands in front, clasped together as if they needed to be holding something.

She spoke. “Komaeda Nagito, is it?”

“It is wonderful to finally see you.” Two hands closed over hers, shaking it. Komaeda smiled, his lips somehow moving without affecting any other part of his face.

In her research, Kirigiri had not come across a photo of Komaeda. She had, however, read physical descriptions, and what she saw matched those. White hair that stuck out in thick chunks and reminded her of a heap of bleached seaweed. Tall, lanky figure with little sense of muscle. Grey eyes as pale in colour as his skin, a stark contrast to his black clothes. He was young as well, and it surprised her that someone looking like that could command enough respect to run a church.

“Hi, I’m Naegi Makoto!” Naegi extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Komaeda didn’t move his head, but his eyes shifted to look at Naegi’s offered hand. “Naegi Makoto. Are you a detective as well?”

“Yep!” Naegi was smiling brightly; Kirigiri honestly couldn’t tell if he hadn’t noticed the snub of his handshake. “I’m her partner.”

“Her partner.” Komaeda’s head turned to face him, and he finally released Kirigiri’s hand. “So, you mean to say you are her assistant?”

_Naegi, don’t –_

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” Naegi admitted with a nervous chuckle.

Komaeda studied him. Then he laughed.

“Sorry, it’s just entertaining. I mean no offense.” The smile he gave Naegi _dripped_ with patronizing smugness. “I’m sure you’re a wonderful _assistant_. But Kirigiri-san is the one in charge, right?”

“No,” Kirigiri said sharply, knowing that Naegi would naively agree again. “We work better as a team.”

“I’m disappointed, but not surprised you would think that way,” Komaeda said. “Lately, there’s been a trend of spreading this idea that ‘everyone is born equal.’ I was hoping one of the country’s best detectives would have figured out that’s not true by now.”

“So, you think that way, huh?” Naegi’s eyes narrowed as he watched his opponent. Naegi was a very laid-back and tolerant person, but there were certain discussions he couldn’t seem to keep himself out of.

“It’s only the truth,” Komaeda said. “When other detectives meet you, they think ‘Wow, it’s a Kirigiri!’ don’t they? They understand this universe is divided into tiers, no matter how minuscule and insignificant they are. I’m sure they don’t think anything similar upon meeting you.”

“No, they don’t.” Naegi admitted, his ahoge seeming to droop. “I know I’m not at the same level as her, but I am her partner, and that means something. I didn’t get that role because of who I was, but because I worked for it. Kirigiri-san worked for her position, too. She worked longer and harder than any of us, and _that’s_ why she’s the best. Not because of who her grandfather was.”

Honestly, she’d been about to step in, to defend him. She was glad she hadn’t because once again, she’d underestimated her partner’s fierceness. Naegi pulsed with an unyielding energy. There was no doubt he believed every word he said, and she knew from experience that trying to fight him right now would be extremely difficult.

Komaeda tilted his head. He murmured, “I see. This is what sleeps within you.”

That pleasant smile was still on Komaeda’s face, but it didn’t extend to his eyes. They were dull. She stepped forward, drawing attention to her again. If she now happened to be closer to Komaeda than Naegi was, that was her business.

“How do you know about my family?” she demanded.

“The best detectives in the world?” Komaeda pointed out. “I’m sure plenty of people know about you.”

It seemed to make sense, but there was a striking falsehood in his statement: outside her profession, the world didn’t know about her family. Yes, her family history contained several exceptional detectives and the people who knew her acknowledged her as thus, but there was no official competition. To claim global recognition struck her as nothing more than a poorly thought-out attempt at flattery.

“Our families have met in the past,” Komaeda said. “It’s a shame that we’re meeting in these circumstances, but I looked forward to a chance to reignite that relationship.”

“Our families have met before, you say?” Kirigiri repeated. She made a mental note to ask her grandfather about that.

“I promise none of your ancestors arrested mine,” Komaeda said with a laugh, as if there was some inside joke she should know about.

“Take us to the scene,” she demanded.

His smile was almost a smirk as he turned to do so. They followed him in silence. He took them back through the doorway he had come through, which led them into a dimmer hall whose architecture aimed to make it look older than the rest of the church. Down the hall they went, straight to the door on the end. Komaeda opened it for them, and they walked into the garden.

Kirigiri’s attention snapped to the yellow police tape. Her heels clicked against the cobblestone path as she walked towards the officer standing guard there. The path became a circular one that surrounded a small pond, and she walked off it onto the grass. The flora was green, healthy. Komaeda may be telling the truth when he claimed it was attended to every morning.

“Detective Kirigiri-san! Detective Naegi-kun!” Officer Ishimaru saluted. His polished buttons gleamed in the sunlight. “I assume you are here to begin your investigation?”

She eyed the white tape on the grass. “The body was found here.”

“That is indeed correct. I witnessed that myself,” Ishimaru said. “I have stood guard over this site all morning. There has been no disturbance to the crime scene. Rest assured that I will include all that information in my report!”

She didn’t doubt him. Ishimaru was an exceptionally diligent officer who followed orders to the letter. No matter how irritating it was sometimes.

“All morning?” Naegi echoed. “You must be tired.”

“I am, but it does not matter!” Ishimaru said. He saluted again with enough force it looked like he might knock himself over. “I have a duty to supervise this crime scene until I am relieved.”

“Let me at least get you a coffee,” Naegi said, knowing from experience that it was useless to ask Ishimaru to take a break. For whatever reason, only Owada Mondo seemed capable of consistently getting Ishimaru to relax.

“You’re getting him coffee? Hmm, I suppose that would be an assistant’s job,” Komaeda said. Naegi grimaced and looked like he was going to defend himself, but Komaeda spoke over any attempt at speech. “It’s not a bad idea. I’m sure you’re working as hard as you can, Ishimaru-kun. I understand it’s not important work, but coffee is a lowly reward, so it’s quite suitable.”

“Not important? Preventing contamination of the crime scene is of the utmost importance!” Ishimaru barked, jabbing a finger into Komaeda’s chest. “If I allowed strangers into the crime scene, not only could evidence be misplaced, but it may become inadmissible in court due to alleged tampering. The case would be dismissed and the culprit would walk free!”

Komaeda clicked his tongue. The way he held himself reminded Kirigiri of an uncle pretending to admire his nephew’s extraordinarily bad artwork. “No one here is interested in playing with the crime scene. Why don’t you let Naegi-kun get you that coffee?”

Silence followed. Komaeda turned his head slightly and looked down at Naegi.

“Ah, that’s right,” Komaeda said. “You wouldn’t know where the coffee maker is. I’ll show you.”

She thought about saying something, but decided not to. That hadn’t been an overt insult this time, and she didn’t want to embarrass Naegi.

Naegi and Komaeda left, and she turned to the crime scene. Her immediate observation agreed with Naegi’s earlier one: the murder did not occur here. There was no physical evidence that even proved the body had ben here. However, it was possible that the murderer(s?) had put something down to catch any dripping blood. There was no damage to the grass, but with it this healthy and strong, it could have recovered from the disturbance. She went on her hands and knees and scoured the ground for anything the earlier cleanup crew might have missed; she found nothing.

“Kirigiri-san, where are you going?” Ishimaru asked as she strode away.

“I’m going to check the nearby area for more evidence,” she said.

Around the border of the garden was a stone wall. Past that, was a forest. That’s where she wanted to be.

Searching woods was always difficult. Leaf litter, sticks and other debris made it hard to locate anything like bullet casings. Still, she persisted. She knew once she gave the all-clear, Togami would send the dog in, but he always let her do a solo search first because she _hated_ it when the others messed up and compromised the original crime scene. Not that they usually did, but it could happen.

She didn’t find much. No weapons, no fabric, no footsteps. The only thing she found were some furrows in a patch of dirt, like several thick snakes had slithered through the area. It was possible it was related to something the killer had dragged, but she wasn’t getting her hopes up.

Naegi and Komaeda were back with the coffee when she returned. She shook her head, letting Naegi know she found nothing of use.

“You can call Togami-kun,” she told Ishimaru.

“Wonderful! I shall do so immediately.”

“Will the chief of police himself be visiting again?” Komaeda asked.

“It’s likely,” Naegi said. Kirigiri was not blind to the way he watched Komaeda through his peripheral vision.

“I see. He seems rather talented for his kind,” Komaeda said. “Would you two like lunch? My family and I were about to eat.”

“We’ll pass,” Kirigiri lied. “There’s some paperwork we need to fill out.”

Komaeda smiled at her. “Maybe next time then.”

She and Naegi returned to their car to get lunch themselves, leaving Ishimaru to await the others’ arrival. Naegi, she noticed, was subdued. He seemed worried. She kept silent about that until they were beyond the gates. Then, she pounced.

“What did he say in there?”

“Huh?” Naegi said.

“Komaeda. What did he say to you when you were getting coffee?”

“Nothing important,” Naegi said. “It was small talk.”

“Makoto.”

Naegi sighed. He hid his face in his heads and said something very quietly and quickly.

“Repeat that.”

“. . . He asked if you were single,” he mumbled.

“Oh,” she said. That was unpleasant.

“I told him we were dating and you weren’t available,” Naegi nearly spat the sentence out.

“You have absolutely nothing to worry about,” Kirigiri told him. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t?” Naegi said with a joy that could only mean he didn’t like Komaeda, too. Kirigiri studied him.

“You don’t like Komaeda because you think he’s interested in me.”

“That’s not . . . I mean. . . Maybe.”

“Considering how he’s treated you, you _should_ dislike him,” Kirigiri said.

“No, I think I’m being childish.” Naegi sunk back into his seat. “I was right, you know. I did lead him around a few years ago. He remembers.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed,” Kirigiri said. “He certainly didn’t give any indication he thought anything of you. . . I don’t mean it like that.”

Too late. He was sulking.

She rubbed his back. “Don’t be like that. Look, we can go for lunch somewhere that has hot chocolate.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Naegi said. “As long as you like where we go, I’m happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? Komaeda isn't a creepy monster. He's just a jerk!
> 
> Next Chapter:  
> Several DR1 characters appear.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's probably going to be at least 150k. I'm 40k into the draft right now, and it's just entering the more spooky stuff.

“So, what’s your first impression?” Naegi asked slowly, as if unsure how to breach the topic.

“That building cost more than a fortune,” Kirigiri said. “They must be very wealthy.”

“Really? But no one even knows who they are. I’ve been in there, and I still don’t know what religion they follow,” Naegi admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Precisely,” Kirigiri said. “They must be involved in crime. Remember what he said: that our families had met before.”

Naegi winced. “That’s unlucky. To have your family experience enough crime to meet the Kirigiris _twice_ . . .”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t be naïve. He was mocking me. They’re criminals.”

“That’s not the impression I got,” Naegi said. “He’s unpleasant, but he seems to genuinely be interested in your skills.”

“You’re too optimistic.”

“And you’re too cynical,” he said back easily.

“I suppose we’re both correct.”

Shortly after the barista, called out their order. Naegi went to retrieve it, giving her a couple of seconds to consider what he had said before he returned.

“What do you think of Komaeda?” Kirigiri asked.

“Come on. I know you hate biased opinions, and I am feeling very biased against him.” Naegi idly stirred cream into his coffee. “He’s okay, I guess.”

“He’s an elitist boor,” she said bluntly.

Naegi peered up from his coffee. “Wow. You really don’t like him. Did he do something while I wasn’t looking?”

“No. I don’t understand how you don’t loathe him, considering most of my reasons for disliking him involve _you_.”

“That’s just the way things are,” Naegi said. “You can’t force everyone to respect you. If I let it bother me, I’d be a grumpy old man. Like an older Togami-kun!”

They didn’t speak any more of Komaeda. They finished up their lunch, and then returned to the car. By the time they pulled up to the church, Togami's officers had arrived. She could see Ishimaru in one of the police cars’ passenger seats, asleep. Owada was also visible in the parking lot, but the others must have been in the back.

Owada had been right in front of his car, so she didn’t see the dog until she drew closer. Chuck the German Shepard barked at her, tail wagging. When Owada dropped his leash though, it wasn’t her the dog ran up to, but Naegi. No one was surprised.

“Hey, I’m good to let Chuck loose, right?” Owada asked her.

“Go ahead. I didn’t find anything useful,” Kirigiri said.

“Alright, c’mere, boy!” Chuck leapt off Naegi and sat by his handler’s side. “Don’t worry. Chuck can track any fucker you throw at him.”

“Let’s take him to the back then,” Kirigiri said.

Chuck was well-trained, but like any police dog, was eager to work. He pulled on the leash the entire way, panting, making Naegi fret over whether the canine would choke himself out. Owada laughed at that, reassuring her partner that Chuck was a ‘tough man.’ Kirigiri would admit that he was a stellar example of a police dog.

Their crime scene photographer, Koizumi Mahiru, was back on scene, as were Officers Oogami and Asahina. Like Naegi and herself, the two women were a team. Not an investigative team, however. Oogami was reasonably intelligent, but Naegi was better and Asahina . . . tried. What the women excelled at were physical tasks. Both were accomplished athletes, able to match Owada, who had once worked undercover in a motorcycle gang. They also complimented each other well. Asahina provided the approachability Oogami couldn’t, and Oogami could calm Asahina down when the latter’s emotions were too strong.

Asahina waved. “Hey, guys! Togami-kun says this is going to be –!”

Oogami grabbed Asahina’s shoulder. She spoke quickly, “As always, Aoi is eager to get to work.”

“Oh. Oh yeah! Yep, just another ordinary day at work. The same stuff we do every day!”

Asahina winked at them. It was a very good thing no one from the church was here. Sometimes, Kirigiri questioned Togami’s judgement when he assigned officers to scenes.

“Shitty place if you’re trying to hide a body,” Owada said. Chuck whined and strained at his leash; the dog had been at enough crime scenes to know that when this collection of people was present, there was work to be done.

“I mean it’s nice the killer didn’t dump her in a dumpster,” Asahina said. “At least it’s a pretty place to die.”

“She’s still fucking dead, so who the hell cares if it’s nice? Go on, Chuck. Get ‘im!”

He dropped the leash and Chuck surged ahead. He went straight for the area around the tape outline, tails high and ears perked. Owada watched proudly as the dog set to sniffing, like a father watching his child on stage.

“So, how’s the investigation going?” Asahina asked them.

“We just started,” Naegi said. “We don’t know too much yet.”

“Okay,” Asahina stretched that word out, “but you got to go inside the church, right? Is it super awesome? Tell me everything!”

“Well, it is really pretty . . .”

The two of them were like gossiping schoolgirls – whispering and giggling. Kirigiri met Oogami’s eyes, and they shared a mutual moment of fond exasperation at their more social partners’ shenanigans.

“Yo, Chuck! What are you doing?”

They all looked over. Chuck was doing . . . nothing. Not sniffing, not moving, just standing there as his tail wagged slowly.

Kirigiri took a step forward, watching that steady movement of the tail. Normally, it would be of no concern. But someone like her, who considered trespassing to be one of the most minor of crimes, was quite familiar with dogs and how they acted. The tail alone was fine, but Chuck’s ears were also pinned back and that meant something wrong.

Just as she came to that conclusion, Chuck showed his teeth.

Owada yanked the dog back. He shifted the grass with his shoe, looking for snakes or something that might have spooked the dog. His efforts were for naught and he turned back to the rest of them with confusion. Chuck kept growling the entire time.

“Are there any large predators around here?” Kirigiri said. “If he’s detecting the scent of one, that may be what’s bothering him.”

Naegi said, “If that’s true, the killer could own an exotic pet or work at a zoo.”

“That is correct,” she said with pride.

“I dunno,” Owada said. “Never seen him freak out like –”

Chuck’s bark was like a cannon going off. Maybe that stunned them, maybe that made them hesitate because none of them grabbed Chuck’s leash before he took off. The dog charged right for the stone wall, clearing it in one massive jump and by the time they had gotten through the gate themselves, he had already disappeared into the woods.

“Chuck! CHUCK!” The gate wobbled when Owada slammed his fist into it. “The fuck he’s doing?”

Owada ran into the woods himself, calling out his partner’s name. Asahina and Oogami were quick to follow. Naegi started to move too, but Kirigiri stopped him.

“We need to focus on our investigation,” she said.

Naegi gaped at her. “We can do that later. We have to go find Chuck!”

“Our responsibility is to solve this case,” she reminded him. “It’s just a dog.”

Naegi gave her _that_ look. That special look that was his wordless way of saying he was disappointed in her.

“It isn’t just a dog to them,” he said. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, but I’m going to help.”

He ran off without her. She watched him, a tad annoyed. But she knew in these kind of matters, Naegi was usually right.

“Hey, are you going or not?” Koizumi demanded, standing like a mother scolding a child. “Because if you’re planning to stay and watch the crime scene, then I’m going to help out.”

“I’ll go,” she said. Maybe she’d been wrong. Chuck was a _police_ dog; that alone made him a valuable member of the department. Additionally, this gave her another chance to investigate the forest.

She didn’t look for the others. That would be counterproductive, as they would cover less ground than they would if they remained separated. It’s not like she was completely ignorant to their locations, either; both Owada and Asahina had booming voices.

After twenty minutes, she was getting impatient. Her own search wasn’t turning up anything and she could hear the others weren’t having luck with their mission. If she were to go about this logically, then there wasn’t much they could do but wait for the dog to return on his own. Dogs were faster than humans, that was certain. Even Owada and Asahina wouldn’t catch him.

Her fingers tapped against her thigh as she continued to walk. She thought she could faintly hear Asahina shouting in the distance. How much time were they planning to spend searching for this dog? It was inconsiderate to keep Koizumi waiting for that long. She checked her watch–

There was no time to devote attention to that. She heard Owada’s noise carry over the trees and it was distressed. She whipped around and pushed her way through the forest, towards the sounds of Owada’s roars and shouting.

Oogami and Asahina were already there when she arrived. Owada was on his knees nearby and past his body, she could see limp brown fur rubbed with red. Her eyes immediately snapped to the surrounding area, searching for footprints.

“Fuck! Who the fuck did this?” Owada screamed. His knees held blood stains as he cradled his dog’s head. “I’m going to break every bone in their body!”

“Try to remain calm,” Kirigiri said.

“Don’t start telling me what to do,” Owada mumbled, but he did shift and allow her closer access to the body. Oogami started to step closer –

“No,” Kirigiri said sharply. “Nobody moves. I don’t want you to destroy any tracks that may be present.”

Oogami and Asahina froze. Their eyes darted around the space at their feet. Kirigiri returned her attention to the dog and began to roll him onto his side.

“You’re not going to do anything weird like stick your hand in his chest, are ya?” Owada asked, an edge of warning in his tone.

She _looked_ at him. “Do you want me to figure out what happened here?”

Owada growled, but turned his head away in submission.

Seeing where the blood pool had concentrated, the fatal wound was on the dog’s stomach or abdomen. She put her hands on either side of the chest and pushed in and away from the centerline, spreading the flesh and yes, there was the wound. It opened up in a neat line, nearly extending from the groin to the bottom of the throat.

“It’s very unlikely an animal caused this,” Kirigiri said. “It looks like a blade’s work.”

“Then some fucker murdered him?” Owada demanded, his voice high from suppressed rage. “Alright, let’s figure out who it was so we can throw the book at them!”

“Even if we did know the culprit, killing a police dog isn’t grounds for a murder charge,” she said automatically.

“What? Why not?” Asahina cried. “That’s stupid.”

 _Because it’s just a dog,_ she wanted to say. She didn’t, however, because she remembered the way Naegi had looked at her. So, instead she said, “That’s the law.”

“Then we should go throw a book at Togami,” Owada said. “Make him change the fucking law cause that ain’t right!”

Oogami said, “I do not believe Togami-kun has any control over federal law.”

“ _Then who am I throwing this fucking book at?!”_

While the others talked, she continued to examine the wound. She was certain this was a manmade injury due to its neatness, but it was still too neat. Thrusting a knife into to a dog would cause it to experience pain, which would cause it to try and thrash away from the source of injury. Particularly in a wound this long, there should be evidence of a struggle via slips in the slash’s otherwise straight path. She saw none, however. When she ran her fingers over the edges of the wound, she felt none. It was as if the dog had been unconscious at the time of the attack, or they had managed to restrain him to an extent beyond what rope could provide. But there were no footprints to be found in the nearby dirt.

She stood and prowled the area, searching for clues. Owada pulled the dog closer, stroking its head even though it could no longer feel him.

She knelt by a patch of dirt nearly beyond the sight of the others. This was a clue. It must be. A second furrow in the dirt, much like the one she had found in the garden near the victim’s body. There was only one furrow this time, and her immediate thought was that it was either caused by a single-wheeled wheelbarrow or a bicycle. Either would make sense; the wheelbarrow could have been how the victim’s body was transported, and the bicycle could be how they got away from the scene.

“Take a look at this,” she said to the others. “What do you make of it?”

Oogami and Asahina glanced at the ground.

“It’s fine. I checked that area already.”

The two of them walked over. Asahina looked over.

“Umm, someone drew in the ground with a big stick?” Asahina suggested.

“Forgive me, but I am not sure what you want us to see,” Oogami said.

“Never mind,” Kirigiri said. She sighed internally; this would be a good time to have Naegi with her. She pulled out her phone to snap a picture.

“Kirigiri-san, is something wrong?” Asahina asked when she saw Kirigiri hesitate.

“I have two missed calls from Makoto,” she said. She hadn’t heard her phone ring, but according to her call log, he had called twice within a couple of minutes.

“And you didn’t pick up?” Asahina said with a gasp. “Are you having a fight? Oh, wait. He called me, too!”

“He did?” Kirigiri said, surprised.

“I have a missed call, as well,” Oogami said.

“Wow, we must have been really busy if none of us heard him,” Asahina said.

Kirigiri didn’t answer, but tried to call Naegi back on her phone. The slow hum of an attempted call vibrated through her ear. Naegi didn’t pick up.

“I’m going to look for him,” she said immediately. Naegi could take care of himself, but it was unusual for him to call and then not pick up when she returned it. Additionally, now there was the added variable of the dog’s killer to factor in . . .

“I will accompany you,” Oogami said, perhaps thinking the same way.

She pushed aside a tangled curtain of branches. The vibrations of Oogami’s heavy footfalls sent shivers through her feet. Owada’s snarling was easily audible, as was Asahina’s quieter attempts to comfort him. Yet, less than a dozen yards away, when she turned around, the forest completely hid the other two. The ground was hard and dry as well, so they couldn’t even see footsteps indicating the way they had came. She grimly took out her knife and notched a tree.

Oogami was not like Asahina; her presence was soft and unassuming until she felt the need to be otherwise, and the noise of her company blended with those of the forest. The sounds Kirigiri was hearing were those of wind, of trees swaying and creaking under the strain. Bushes that she could not see rattled when she periodically called Naegi’s name. The sky above was becoming swamped by the dark canopy.

Did Owada scream himself hoarse, or had the forest swallowed his shouts? She didn’t know. She only abruptly noticed the silence.

It was getting dark. Not dark enough to need a light, but dark enough to be unsettling. She glanced at her phone, at the pulsing dot of their location. The phone went back in her pocket and she turned her eyes to the route ahead. Slick, moss-covered bark greeted her, painting their surroundings in unending green. She nearly slipped on a damp log she hadn’t noticed underfoot.

“Be careful,” Oogami said, having grabbed Kirigiri from behind to keep her steady. “You do not want to sprain a muscle here.”

The trees all looked the same. There was no proof, but she had the impression that they were getting closer and closer together the further they delved. Either way, she noticed she had to squeeze through more openings, and she lost sight of Oogami from time to time.

“Kirigiri-san, could you check your GPS?” Oogami asked.

She did so. The screen flashed back ‘ _Can’t locate position.’_

“Mine says that as well,” Oogami said when Kirigiri relayed that to her. “The signal must be lost out here.”

Her grip tightened around the phone. No signal would certainly explain why Naegi hadn’t picked up. If his phone had repeatedly found and dropped the signal, perhaps that explained why her phone hadn’t rung when he called. It was a hypothesis that made sense, and one she strongly disliked. She knew Naegi and his luck.

“Kirigiri-san, what do you think we should do?” Oogami asked.

She knew the proper answer. She knew the protocol. It was better to retreat; best to ensure there was only one person to rescue, and not create a second victim. But it was _Naegi,_ and she knew his luck.

She wasn’t given a chance to answer. She heard something – she couldn’t remember what – but her head snapped around. In the far distance, she saw something move in the gap between two trees. She called out Naegi’s name and shoved past a particularly prickly branch. Whatever she had seen had already passed the opening, but she wasn’t hearing anymore crashing, so he hoped Naegi had heard his name–

_Thwack!_

She turned around. Oogami was standing, staring at a crumpled Naegi at her feet.

Kirigiri moved to help him, but then remembered the thing in the distance that she had thought was him. She looked behind her; still no movement, still no sound. She backed towards Naegi, keeping her eyes on that distant spot. Oogami reached down and yanked Naegi to his feet as Kirigiri stood guard. There was still neither sound nor movement, so she chalked what she had seen down to an animal and addressed Naegi.

“What happened?” Kirigiri demanded as she took stock of his ruined outfit.

Naegi blinked slowly. She could sense him cringing mentally. Not looking directly at her, he mumbled, “There’s a swamp.”

That explained everything. Among all the people Kirigiri had ever met, Naegi was the unluckiest. Falling into a swamp was just another day for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m a mess.”

“You really are,” Kirigiri said. There was no point in sugar-coating it. Naegi hadn’t just fallen in a swamp; he’d fallen in a muddy one. The white dress shirt he was wearing had turned brown on the right side, and the entire thing was soaked through and clung to his skin. His pants had been black, so it was much harder to see mud on them. They were rolled up, however, and one of his shoes were missing.

“I think we should head back,” Naegi said. “We can come back with reinforcements later.”

“There’s no need to return,” Kirigiri said. “Owada-kun found the dog.”

“Really?” Naegi said brightly, and she instantly regretted how she had phrased that.

“It’s dead,” she corrected.

Naegi’s smile dropped, but at the same time, his face hardened. As if he had expected this. He turned his head slightly to the side and his eyes scanned the words nearby, looking for something.

“What happened?” Naegi asked, and Kirigiri knew him well enough to know that it wasn’t just curiosity and concern that drove him.

“We are not sure,” Oogami said. “Kirigiri-san believes that he was attacked by someone.”

Naegi’s arms tensed. His hands were on the verge of balling into fists.

“You tried to call us earlier,” she said pointedly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I got stuck in the swamp and was hoping you guys could come help. That’s how I lost my shoe.” He squirmed. “We _really_ should go though.”

That was their code. Not a word, not a phrase, but a certain emphasis in his way of speaking that he used only when things were potentially dangerous and someone unwanted might overhear. She gave a sharp nod of her head in acknowledgement, then set a brisk pace back. Oogami, noticing Naegi stumbling along with one shoe, ended up giving him a piggyback.

“Naegi-kun, are you okay?” Asahina cried when she saw them. She tore away from Owada’s side, looking like she was ready to punch the first thing Naegi pointed towards.

“I fell in a swamp.”

Asahina started laughing. “You would. How was it? It is big? Could I –?”

“It’s a swamp,” Naegi repeated. “They’re really not suited for swimming.”

Kirigiri called to Owada. “Owada-kun, we should return to civilization. Koizumi-san and Togami-kun need to know what happened here.”

“. . . Yeah,” Owada said quietly. Ignoring the blood that smeared his arms, he scooped his dog up in his arms.

Her first instinct was to shout at him, to scold him for disturbing a crime scene. Had she been younger, she would have. This time, she bit it back just in time, so that only a sound like a cough escaped. It pained her, it really did, to watch someone behave thusly around evidence. But she reminded herself she had searched the scene earlier and Owada, despite his strength and temper, did love that dog and would handle it gently. Plus, it was just a dog. It wasn’t like they were at the scene of a legal murder and needed to follow the same protocol.

Koizumi cried out when she saw them. She ran right over, abandoning her watch over the crime scene and Kirigiri decided that in this case, it was understandable. Koizumi had never worked directly with the dog, but she acted like she had been his partner instead of Owada’s. Kirigiri’s brain reflexively told her to check later (she wouldn’t really) whether Koizumi was an animal lover.

“What happened to him?” Koizumi demanded.

“He was attacked,” Naegi said grimly. “I bet it had to do with whatever he was chasing.”

“The killer,” Owada growled. Though she knew he had no problems handling the weight of his dog, his back was still hunched over, like some beast in a horror film.

“We can’t say for certain yet,” Kirigiri said.

“Yeah, well, whatever. Call me when you figure out which shit’s teeth I have to smash in,” Owada said. He tromped off without another word, the body of his dead dog cradled in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> A shoutout is made to the original premise.


	5. Chapter 5

“This case seems a lot messier than what Togami had us believe,” Asahina said to the rest of them.

“It was always going to be a messy case,” Kirigiri responded. “That’s why Makoto and I are handling it.”

“I feel really bad for Owada-kun,” Asahina said. “He loved Chuck. Remember how long he begged Togami for a police dog? Do you think Togami will let him get another?”

“I am sure he will,” Oogami said. “But first, Owada-kun must be given time to grieve. Naegi-kun, if I may ask, Asahina-san and I have a missed call from you . . .”

“I got stuck in a swamp,” Naegi said flatly.

“And you wished for assistance,” Oogami said. “I understand. However, why did you not answer when Kirigiri-san called you back?”

“You did?” Naegi said, surprised. He checked his phone. “Oh. You did. The signal must be bad out here. Hey, when you guys were in the woods, did you notice anything?”

“Like what?” Kirigiri asked sharply.

“It didn’t feel like I was alone. It felt like something was out there watching me.”

“Do you think it was the killer?” Oogami said with alarm.

“I don’t know,” Naegi said.

They all looked to Kirigiri.

“A forest is an obvious, and useful, place for a culprit to hide,” she said.

“Kyoko, didn’t Togami-kun say he thought –?”

She silenced him with her eyes.

“Okay, sheesh. We get it. We’re not smart enough to know,” Asahina said.

“I am sure they mean no offense,” Koizumi said. “You know what Togami’s like.”

She could _feel_ Naegi about to give in to his instincts and defend Togami, but in a flash, their conversation had to stop. They heard a wheezy, questioning voice, one she recognized right away. They turned as a unit. Komaeda, hands clasped behind his back, was leisurely sauntering across the yard towards them.

“I saw your K-9 officer leave,” Komaeda said. “The poor thing looked exhausted. I imagine you have news then.”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential,” she said. The rest of them followed her cue and kept silent.

For a second, Komaeda looked at her. She didn’t see offense or anger. She saw confusion. Confusion that she would say that. Confusion she would believe it necessary. She wondered if being a pastor, if being privy to his flock’s most twisted secrets had left him with a skewed sense of privacy when it came to regular people.

But he smiled anyways. “Ah, sorry. I forgot. Your kind loves to keep their little secrets, don’t they?”

Asahina immediately puffed up. “Our kind?”

“The investigative types,” Komaeda said quickly. “To be working alongside Kirigiri Kyoko – and not as an assistant! – I’m sure you’re a talented investigator as well!”

Kirigiri worked her jaw. Naegi looked glum, having accepted his fate.

“M-me? Nah, we’re not really as good as Kirigiri-san is!” Asahina, cheeks red, smiled.

But false flattery never fooled Kirigiri. She keenly remembered what Komaeda had said about their families meeting before. This was another attempt at mockery, or an outright threat. Their _little_ secrets. As if they were insignificant. As if the thought of trying to keep things from him was laughable. It seemed the more this man spoke, the more she disliked him.

“And you decided to take a dip in the swamp,” Komaeda said to Naegi.

“If ‘taking a dip’ is a fancy way of saying fell in, then yeah,” Naegi deadpanned.

She saw that confusion again. Komaeda said, “The rest of us always know when we’re near it.”

“It’s my first time here,” Naegi said.

Komaeda studied Naegi. Kirigiri herself felt a flicker of curiosity. Komaeda seemed to believe that the swamp was hard to miss. Maybe it was. If there was one patch, one itty bitty place that it might not be visible from, she could believe Naegi ended up there.

“We have spare clothes, if you want them,” Komaeda told them. “I’m guessing this isn’t very comfortable for you.”

“Uh . . .” Naegi’s eyes darted to her, asking for help.

“It saves us a trip back,” she said to both.

“If it helps the great Kirigiri-san, then that’s an even better reason to offer my assistance.” Komaeda’s sweeping gesture was unneeded and overdramatic. “I’ll take you to them.”

Naegi visibly sighed, but Komaeda didn’t seem to mind. The two headed off and Kirigiri waited for Komaeda leave her sight. Once he was, she whirled around and made her way straight to the garden shed. It was located on the left of the garden, next to the stone wall, and anyone who wanted to get to the forest from it would only need to hop the wall.

“What are you looking for?” Oogami asked.

“Evidence.” She yanked the door open.

The air inside was musty. There was no floor; the equipment inside rested on dirt. She could see impressions in the ground; obviously, someone had moved things, but she could not tell whether a wheelbarrow had once been here. Bags of mulch and dirt were stacked on one side, nearly replacing the wall. A shovel stood next to it and she chipped dirt off the blade. Hard dirt. Probably not from a recent dig, then. She gestured for Koizumi to take a picture of the shovel and its dirt stains. It was unlikely to help, but weirder things had happened.

She looked around once more, and realized something important. It involved not what she saw, but what she _didn’t_ see.

“There’s nothing sharp in here.”

“What would they need that’s sharp?” Asahina asked.

“Well, gardens shears come to mind,” Koizumi answered. “Pruners, stuff like that. This garden’s so neat that I’m surprised they don’t have any of those.”

“Exactly,” Kirigiri said. She eyed the dirt on the shovel once more. “Someone’s removed them.”

“Oh my gosh,” Asahina gasped. “Are they the murder weapon?”

“It’s quite possible,” Kirigiri said. Things were coming together. The culprit had stabbed the victim with one of these tools, then had taken the shovel and buried them in the woods. Perhaps the culprit had been returning from checking on their hiding place when the dog had gone after them? It left several questions, however: Who was the culprit? Why this victim? Where were the garden tools now?

“I’m going to head inside,” Kirigiri said. “I want to find out who’s responsible for maintaining the garden.”

By coincidence, Naegi and Komaeda were within earshot of the door she used to enter. She could hear them arguing: Komaeda saying that Naegi was being too self-conscious and everything was fine; Naegi begging him for a different set of clothing, that he couldn’t let Kirigiri see him like this. . .

Well, that was interesting. As quickly, and as quietly as she could, she walked over to where the two men were. She found them in a room, and peeked inside.

“It doesn’t look too bad,” Kirigiri said, making Naegi jump.

It did seem to her that they might have been a tad too big and long for him, but otherwise she wasn’t sure what Naegi’s problem had been. He was wearing church clothing: black robes that covered his entire body. She traced it from his head to his toes, and noticed the way it pinched in at the waist.

“You’re wearing clothes meant for a woman,” she remarked.

“See! I told you she’d notice!” Naegi hissed at Komaeda.

“I’m afraid those are the only spare clothes we have that are your size,” Komaeda said. He held up white cloth. “If you wear the veil, I’m sure no one would recognize –”

“No way.”

“I think it looks nice,” Kirigiri said, walking up to Naegi. “It’s cute.”

“You’re just saying that.”

She smirked. “You know what I think of men in uniforms.”

“Yeah. I do.” There was a bit of breathlessness to his voice. “I guess it isn’t too bad.”

She started to speak –

“It isn’t the complete uniform if you’re not wearing the veil,” Komaeda said. He raised the white cloth again.

The mood was awkward now. Naegi stepped back, looking frustrated.

“I have a question to ask you,” Kirigiri said. “The garden. Who maintains it?”

“We take turns,” Komaeda answered. “I’ll guess that’s not what you’re asking though. For the last little while, Enoshima Junko has been tending to it.”

“Enoshima Junko?” Naegi repeated. Kirigiri fought an urge to whip her notepad out. Better not to remind Komaeda why they wanted to know this.

“It would be an honour to introduce you to her,” Komaeda said. “She’s exceptional. Forgive my presumptuousness, but I think she could even give you, Kirigiri-san, a run for your money - even in investigating!”

Oh? Really, now? The name Enoshima Junko was not familiar to her, so clearly, this woman was not part of a well-known family of detectives. She hoped Komaeda hadn’t said that simply because Enoshima was _smart_. Being smart was not enough to be a detective. Fujisaki Chihiro was smart, but she would never want him as a partner.

“If she’s around, let’s go meet her,” Naegi said.

Komaeda took them to the other end of the corridor, where the hallway opened into a spiraling staircase. It was medieval-style, built of stone and winding clockwise around a pillar of empty air. He took them past the second floor and to the third, where a balcony-like overhang allowed them to observe the chapel below. Leaning upon the railing was a woman whose strawberry blonde hair was tied back in two pigtails. Although she wore the standard black clothes that Naegi now did, it wasn’t the same. Enoshima held herself as if she wore a fancy dress. While Naegi’s tunic went all the way down to his ankles, Enoshima’s stopped beneath her knees. She, as well, lacked the veil.

“Hmm?” Enoshima’s pigtails bounced as she turned around. “So, this is the new guy!”

Naegi groaned. “It’s not what it looks like. I fell in the swamp and needed to borrow some clothes.”

“Is that so?” Enoshima said with a sly, little smirk. She reached out with surprisingly long fingernails, and they scraped down Naegi’s arm. “You’re pretty cute.”

“Uh, thanks. I am! And taken!” Naegi said that all with excessive volume. He latched onto Kirigiri’s arm for protection, which she accepted. She leveled a stern glare at Enoshima.

“And he’s so easy to tease!” Enoshima laughed hysterically. “This is going to be fun!”

Kirigiri squeezed Naegi’s arm. “You must not be aware, but we are –”

“I know who you are. My sister told me all about how you came by without even coming to say hi to me,” Enoshima adopted a doleful tone that grated against Kirigiri’s ears. Enoshima was faking –

“O-oh! We’re sorry. We didn’t know that hurt your feelings,” Naegi said. Kirigiri resisted slapping her forehead in exasperation.

Enoshima grinned at Kirigiri. “You must have a lot of fun with him.”

Before she could respond, Komaeda stepped in. “I believe Kirigiri-san wanted to talk to you about the garden.”

“That ugly thing? I could do way better,” Enoshima answered. She was back to leaning on the railing, and flicked her hand at the wrist.

“I would prefer if Makoto and I could speak to her in private,” Kirigiri told Komaeda.

She didn’t get that look of confusion from Komaeda again, but when she turned around, Enoshima was sporting it. Fine. Kirigiri knew she couldn’t stop the two from comparing notes once she and Naegi were gone, so privacy during the initial questioning was the best she could do. Unfortunately, even with Kirigiri’s it, there simply wasn’t enough evidence to hold Enoshima or Komaeda at the station. If either of them were even the culprit.

Enoshima’s eyes tracked Komaeda as he left. Then they slid to Kirigiri and appraised her. Kirigiri knew this behaviour; she saw it often in people that thought they could outwit her.

“So, what do you want exactly?” Enoshima asked. “I’m guessing you’re not interested in what brand of fertilizer we use.”

That was fair. She liked to cut past the small talk, too. “Where were you two nights ago? And I am talking about the entire night.”

“In bed,” Enoshima answered, raising her eyebrows.

“I see. Is there anyone else who can verify your alibi?”

Enoshima picked at her nails. “I doubt it.”

“Really?”

“It was night,” Enoshima said dully. “Humans need sleep, don’t they?”

Yes, that was unfortunate. It was unlikely to find anyone with an airtight alibi. It would be more suspicious if they did have one.

“When do you tend to the garden?”

“Seven at night and in the morning,” Enoshima answered easily. “ _Some_ people keep complaining that I’m leaving it too late, but fuck ‘em!”

So, both times that would suggest she had nothing to do with the body. It seemed to be on purpose. Kirigiri was mulling over that when . . .

“Should you be using that kind of language?” Naegi asked hesitantly. Kirigiri stepped back; she knew _exactly_ what response he would get.

“Does this look like the 17th century to you?” Enoshima scoffed. “What, are we delicate women not allowed to use big, scary words? Are our poor fragile ears going to burst if we’re exposed to something so _horrible_?”

“That’s not what I meant!” Naegi said quickly. “I didn’t mean . . . It’s not like that!”

“How cruel!”

He looked to Kirigiri for help, but she only crossed her arms and looked at him. He had brought this on himself.

Enoshima was crying crocodile tears and Naegi, being his soft-hearted and naïve self, fell for them. He was frantically trying to calm Enoshima down, speaking in loud whispers while glancing past her to the floor below to check if anyone else had heard them. Naegi was usually good at comforting others, but easing tears he had caused? That made his skin glow as bright red as a tomato.

She heard Enoshima’s breathing change as she switched over from fake crying to laughter. Poor Naegi looked so confused. By now, Enoshima wasn’t trying to hide it. She laughed and laughed, holding onto Naegi’s shoulder for support as she wiped a lingering tear from her eye.

“You’re going to be great to have around,” she said. She glanced at Kirigiri. “But tell your girlfriend to relax. I already have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, umm . . .” Naegi swallowed and glanced at Kirigiri, expecting a lecture.

“Makoto, why don’t you let me handle this?” Kirigiri said. She knew it sounded like she was mad at Naegi. She wasn’t; it was just that Naegi seemed to be distracting Enoshima. Plus, Kirigiri enjoyed the idea of putting distance between Enoshima and _her_ boyfriend.

“Right. Uh, I’ll let you two speak.” Naegi scampered off with his tail between his legs.

“And now it’s time for girl talk, right?” Enoshima said calmly.

“What do you know about the case we’re investigating?” she demanded.

Enoshima shrugged. “Nagito found a body. You guys popped up. Your boytoy looks good in our uniform.”

“That’s it?”

“What? Did you expect me to perform an autopsy? Do your own damn job.”

She gritted her teeth. She was sure Enoshima knew more. “Who’s been around the garden, recently?”

“Everyone,” Enoshima said. “It’s not like it’s unpopular.”

“What about at night?”

“Beats me,” Enoshima answered. “I do my work at seven and I don’t think that’s the timeframe you’re after.”

Enoshima was enjoying this. Kirigiri had no evidence, no proof that it was so, but that thought lingered in her mind. Her chest had tightened, and her skin felt hot . . . No. Her theory had nothing to do with jealousy. Naegi wasn’t fickle. Looks would never be enough to sway him.

“Have there been any incidents lately with the garden?” Kirigiri watched Enoshima closely with bated breath.

“A couple of things went missing, but nothing big.”

Bingo. She was slightly disappointed because if Enoshima had denied that, it would have been another point against her. She’d have to make due.

“Like what?”

“Random tools. We didn’t have a list before, so I can’t really say, but I noticed too many empty spots in there. That’s the best I have,” Enoshima claimed.

“I’ll make a note of that,” Kirigiri said.

The small admission about the missing tools was the most Kirigiri was able to get out of her. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought that Enoshima was reading her mind and wording her answers in such a way to give as little useful information as possible. She was sure Enoshima was enjoying this and Kirigiri gave her a wooden thanks and goodbye. She left to look for Naegi. After that, speaking to someone she knew would do his best to help her was very welcome.

Naegi wasn’t alone. He was speaking vibrantly to someone a head taller than him. Kirigiri had to take a second look because, especially since they were both wearing church clothes, this stranger looked like an older relative of Naegi. The man seemed to have sharper features than Naegi; less rounded eyes, less lanky limbs and a pointier chin. His hair was a darker brown, but he had an ahoge like Naegi, although Naegi’s looked much softer to touch. She wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but going off the smile she saw, the man was enjoying the conversation.

“Ah, Kyoko!” Naegi waved her over.

She obeyed. She walked over calmly, as if she owned this place, not even faltering when she saw the man’s eyes were two different colours.

The man smiled at her. “I just thought I’d welcome him to the church.”

“We’re just visiting,” she said.

The man blinked. “Oh. Uh, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Naegi said. “With me wearing these clothes, I don’t blame you for being confused.”

“I’ll assume you two already know each other. I’m his partner, Kirigiri Kyoko.” She held out her hand.

“Nice to meet you.” The man grabbed her hand and shook it. “I’m Kamukura Izuru.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter:  
> Kamukamu is back.
> 
> Also, prepare for the biggest plot twist ever


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, for whatever reason, I find Hinata one of the hardest characters to write.

“Honestly? I still can’t believe this is happening. Someone kills a girl in our backyard and leaves the body there. . . It’d be nice if it was a dream. I’m glad the police got here before I had to see it. I just have to put up with Nagito and Junko talking about it instead,” Kamukura said, screwing up his face in disgust. He took note of the confusion on Naegi’s face and amended, “Komaeda and Enoshima.”

Naegi nodded. “Ah. Are you her boyfriend?”

“Yes. No, I’m not entirely sure how that happened either. Hey,” he said to Kirigiri, “I wasn’t listening to your conversation, but I know what Junko’s like. Don’t take anything she says personally. Uh, actually I’ll say that about Nagito, as well. They can be really weird sometimes, and Junko loves getting a rise out of people.”

“That’s a poor game to play when you’re being questioned about a murder,” Kirigiri remarked.

Kamukura sighed wearily, as if he had this conversation every day. “I know, but that’s what this place is like. Ikusaba’s okay, but the rest of them are . . . eccentric.”

Kirigiri said, “If you’re not occupied, I’d like to ask you some questions about the murder.”

“Sure,” Kamukura said easily. “I want to help, but I’m not sure I’ll be of any use.”

She took him through the basic questions. What he knew. What he had seen. Where he had been during the night. (Sleeping as well, apparently.) He turned out even less helpful than Enoshima had been and he knew it. He kept apologizing, not to the excessive degrees Naegi liked to, but enough to suggest he genuinely meant it. Kirigiri could sense him growing uncomfortable, but it seemed to be from his inability to help. Or at least that was the impression he was _trying_ to give.

“That’s about everything I know,” Kamukura finished. “You should talk to Shinguji-kun, too; he’s in the garden a lot.”

Kirigiri flipped her (mostly empty) notepad closed. “Thank you. That was very helpful.”

Kamukura gave her a look. “Seriously?”

“You tried. I appreciate that.”

He winced. “That makes sense. Trust me, I know how hard it can be to get a straight answer out of Nagito or Junko.”

Before they left him, Kirigiri reached into her pocket and pulled out a picture. “Do you recognize this woman?”

Kamukura took the photograph of the victim and held it up to the light. He squinted.

“Sorry,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’ve never seen her before.”

She had expected nothing else. She was still suspicious, though. Kamukura acted as though he wanted to help, but she knew from experience that it wasn’t unusual for the culprit to act that way. It was a game to them, a way to feel out the investigators and discover how much they knew. If this was indeed Kamukura’s plan, it could explain why Kamukura and Naegi had been talking before she arrived.

“Kyoko!” Naegi poked her in the shoulder. “Kamukura-kun says Shinguji-kun is over there.”

Naegi, as if he had already met this Shinguji and decided they were best friends, bounced ahead and led the way. She took the photo back from Kamukura and returned it to her pocket –

And as she did, she met the eyes of Enoshima Junko. The woman leaned against the wall nearby, watching them from a patch of shadows. She wasn’t smiling; her expression was eerily blank. Until she saw Kirigiri watching, and then she smiled and waved like a queen. Kamukura, noting Kirigiri’s frown, turned around, too. Unlike her, however, he relaxed in Enoshima’s presence. With a quick goodbye, Kamukura left for his girlfriend. Kirigiri watched him quietly before following Naegi.

There was no service this day because the chapel was nearly empty. A lone figure stood alone on the black carpet before the chancel. Candles lay in two clusters on either side of him, and the man himself looked like he was in reverence. His arms, palms-up, were held out and his face was skywards as if he were basking in the sun. He looked to be busy with prayer so she . . .

And apparently, Naegi had not noticed that.

“Hello!” Naegi said loudly. “Do you have a minute to speak with us?”

Thankfully, the man didn’t seem upset at the interruption. It was hard to tell though. A mask was draped over the lower part of his face, and there was a zipper where his lips should be. The feline-like eyes didn't betray anything either. The mask wasn’t the only strange thing about him. His hands were wrapped in gauze like a mummy. He wore a dark green tunic and trousers that looked like an old army uniform. One of those sleeves held a red armband with a black symbol she didn’t recognize. He wore a cap too, an army one by the looks of it, and she was surprised he could wear it inside the church.

“Certainly,” Shinguji said, turning around. “How may I assist you?”

She eyed his strange outfit again. She had several questions, but chose one that was relevant to the case. “Do you belong to this church?”

“Not quite,” Shinguji said. “I share their food, but I am not involved in their current project. I am simply here as an observer.”

“An observer,” Kirigiri echoed skeptically. “And what are you observing? Our case?”

“You say that as if doing so would be wrong.” She was sure beneath that mask, Shinguji was smiling. “But why must that be wrong? Humanity has always been fascinated by death. It may be a fascination born of fear, but it is nonetheless a fascination.”

“Someone _died,_ ” Naegi said, voice strained.

“They have,” Shinguji said. “And it shall lead to something beautiful.”

“ _Beautiful_?” Naegi spat, echoing her own thoughts, albeit much more aggressively.

“But of course. Life is wonderful, is it not? If we celebrate life, we should celebrate all its stages, including its end. And so, humanity has. Nothing brings a community together like death. It is what brought you here, is it not? You, too, possess a fascination for the dead.”

“We just want to –”

“Does _everyone_ know about the murder?” Kirigiri cut in.

“Word travels quickly,” Shinguji said. “There are no secrets to be found here.”

This seemed to be a common theme: the lack of secrets. Was this an innocent cultural difference, she wondered, or was it a quiet attempt to pressure them into revealing what they knew? She may have to keep an eye on Naegi. She trusted him to keep their secrets hidden, but aggressors tended to look upon him as the weaker target.

“Who told you about this?” Kirigiri demanded, already suspecting the answer.

“Enoshima Junko,” Shinguji said.

Ah, her theory was correct.

“The last time you were in the garden, when was that?” Naegi asked.

“It was sometime yesterday morning,” Shinguji said. “However, your officers had already cordoned off the scene. They did not seem to appreciate my curiosity, so I returned inside.”

She made a note to verify that story, and check what this man had asked. It was common for murderers to show excessive interest when they questioned officers at a scene.

“What about before the murder happened?” Naegi asked. “Before the body was discovered, when was the last time you went into the garden?”

“Hmm, I cannot say for certain, but I imagine it must have been around midnight,” Shinguji told them. “I was performing.”

“What does that mean?” Kirigiri asked.

“As I said, I am an observer. Not only of events occurring here, but of humanity. The various cultures and peoples scattered across this world are a treasure trove to someone like me. Sometimes, I attempt to replicate their rituals for myself.” He raised his hand towards them, palm-up, as if inviting them to join him.

“So, you were trying to replicate some old ritual,” Naegi said. “Did you see anything strange in the garden at that time?”

“Nothing unexpected.”

They got nothing more out of him. If Shinguji told the truth, they had narrowed down the time the body appeared but that was it. Kirigiri nodded at Naegi, and he politely dismissed Shinguji.

But as they walked away, Shinguji said, “You fear the darkness within humanity, don’t you?”

She turned and scoffed. “Are you asking me? I would expect better from someone who claims to study humanity.”

Shinguji chuckled, covering his already hidden lips with his hand as he did so. “The young child who touched corpses for her birthday? No, I would not expect that of you. But what of you, Naegi Makoto? Do you fear evil?”

She, body tense, watched Shinguji through narrowed eyes as Naegi answered. “I . . . I mean I don’t know if it’s fear, but . . . I never like how many cases we have,” Naegi said. “It would be a lot better if everyone just stopped killing each other, you know? And we’ve seen some really nasty things. . .”

“Have you ever heard of Plato’s Cave?”

“That philosophical idea? Yes, we both have.”

“Then put your mind at ease,” Shinguji urged. “Humanity is still chained within that cave, afraid to poke their heads out. You have nothing to fear from them.”

To Kirigiri, it sounded like an odd attempt at comfort. But what brought it on, and why? She didn’t trust this man, especially after what he had alluded to earlier . . .

“Thanks,” Naegi said, and only she could hear the flatness in his tone.

Shinguji blinked slowly. Then he addressed her. “I wonder what great things I will see from you. I look forward to finding out.”

They were both glad to leave him be. Shinguji wasn’t rude like Enoshima and Komaeda were, but speaking to him was taxing. What she was most concerned about, however, was what he knew. She grabbed Naegi and pulled him into a corner, where she was sure no one was listening in.

“He shouldn’t know that,” she hissed.

Naegi spoke carefully. “I know you hate it when civilians are told about our cases, but he didn’t know anything too unusual. We really can’t expect them to keep quiet about a body found in their garden.”

“Not that. ‘ _The young child who touched corpses on her birthday.’_ There is no reason he should know anything about that.”

Naegi frowned. “What are you talking about?”

She sighed. Perhaps, it would have been better not to say anything at all. “It’s something I never told you about. I knew how you would react and I didn’t want you to think worse of him . . . It’s not important.”

“Hey, you know you can tell me anything,” Naegi said. He slipped his hand over hers, and waited.

She began. “The first corpse I ever saw . . . it was on my seventh birthday. For my birthday present, my grandfather decided to take me to a murder scene.”

And there was the reaction she had expected. Naegi’s mouth dropped open. His grip on her hand suddenly tightened, but it was a hollow grip; she could have easily torn herself free.

“It really isn’t a big deal,” she said quickly. “It was obvious that I would be following in my grandfather’s footsteps, and it was my request, not his. The greatest talents often start honing their craft from an early age, and there’s why detectives shouldn’t be the same.”

“But _murder_?” Naegi squeaked. “How could anyone let you see that? That’s horrible!”

“And this is why I never wanted to tell you,” she said, turning away with a huff. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. It isn’t in your nature.”

“Of course, it isn’t. What your grandfather did –”

“Might have been inappropriate if you were his grandchild, but you weren’t.” She glared at him. Naegi could be stubborn, but a stern look from her did wonders to break him down. “We are very different people. I was ready.”

His lips thinned and she could see fierceness in the creases on his forehead, but then Naegi took a deep breath and visibly forced himself to calm down. “It already happened. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Precisely. Let’s return to the original topic. How did he know that?”

“It’s possible he didn’t mean it,” Naegi said. “The Kirigiris have a reputation, and everyone here seems to be aware of it. Maybe he was just trying to make a point.”

“That’s possible,” she admitted. Now that she thought about it, she was surprised that hadn’t been her immediate conclusion. Enoshima must have gotten under her skin more than she had realized. “Let’s move on then. There’s another person I wish to interview: Ikusaba Murkuro. If she’s operating as a security guard, she may have seen something.”

They looked for her, they did. They found no signs of that woman who had opened the gates for them, however. Naegi tried asking around, but the most he received were amused stares, as if Ikusaba was crawling on the ground behind him. Kirigiri had to take a deep breath. It was going to be _very_ satisfying to finally uncover this church’s illegality. Criminals were bad, but arrogant criminals were by far the worse. At least arrogance tended to make them sloppy.

“We should look for Ikusaba tomorrow,” Naegi said. “I don’t think we’re going to get to talk to her today.”

Just as he said that –

“You wanted to see _me_?”

Naegi jumped and grabbed Kirigiri’s arm, unconsciously seeking her protection. Kirigiri did not move. They had found Ikusaba, but where had she come from? Kirigiri had seen her step out of the shadows, but when she had swept that area beforehand, she had been certain no one was there.

“Ah, Ikusaba-san!” Naegi said loudly, still jumpy. “Yes, we were looking for you.”

“M-me?” she repeated, a hand over her chest.

“Why are you so surprised?” Kirigiri asked. Had someone told Ikusaba that she would be beneath suspicion?

“I didn’t think you would notice me,” Ikusaba said. “I’m not like Junko-chan and the others.”

Good. She didn’t like _Junko-chan_ or Komaeda, and Shinguji was not pleasant to speak to. She would admit, however, that Kamukura seemed pleasant enough. Which only made her more suspicious of him.

“Junko-chan, huh?” Naegi said with a grin. “Are you two good friends?”

“She’s my little sister,” Ikusaba told them.

Kirigiri locked onto the immediate contradiction. “Yet you two share different family names?”

“Yes . . .” Ikusaba stared at a point on the ground. “I don’t take after our mother at all.”

So? Was that supposed to mean something? She wasn’t sure and wanted clarification, but Naegi nudged her with his foot, and he gave her that sideways glance that meant he thought she was being insensitive.

“I have a little sister, too,” Naegi said, trying to change the subject.

Ikusaba said, “Does she take after your father, as well?”

Naegi froze. Kirigiri locked onto those suspect words, but stayed quiet.

“. . . I don’t really know my father,” Naegi said, and there was a clear warning in his voice to stop talking about this.

Apparently though, Ikusaba’s social awareness was poor, for she asked, “That’s a good thing? Or is that bad?”

“It’s irrelevant to this discussion,” Kirigiri snapped, cutting in because Naegi was too soft-hearted to tell Ikusaba to stop. “We want to know where you were yesterday morning and night before the body was discovered.”

“The bell tower.”

“. . . And what were you doing there?” she pressed.

“Keeping watch.”

She feels Naegi vibrating with energy next to her. If the culprit made the mistake of coming through the front, this may be the best lead they had yet.

“Did you see anyone between sunset and six in the morning?”

“Yes.”

“. . . Could you tell us who that was?”

“It was too dark to tell,” Ikusaba said. “I saw a car stop by the side of the road and two people exit.”

Naegi scrambled to get his notepad out (his memory unfortunately wasn’t as solid as hers) as she continued the questioning. “Were they carrying anything?”

“I couldn’t tell,” Ikusaba said. “I could only see the front of the car, but I think they went for the trunk.”

“What time was this?”

“Quarter to midnight.”

Naegi was writing furiously. If she wasn’t in the middle of an interrogation, she might have squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “How long was the car there?”

“It left after dropping them off,” Ikusaba said. “I didn’t see anything after that.”

Kirigiri nodded. “Thank you. That was very enlightening.”

Hesitation showed on Ikusaba’s face. “It was? Oh . . .”

“It’s a good thing,” Naegi assured her. “You were really helpful.”

But Ikusaba still looked uncertain.

“I have one more thing to ask,” Kirigiri said. “Ikusaba-san, _why_ were you keeping watch that night?”

“It was my duty.”

“But _why_?” Kirigiri stressed. “You aren’t living in an area where robbery is common. Why would your church use one of its nuns for security and not hire a night guard? Why you, and why that night? Are you on guard every night?”

“No,” Ikusaba said. “If there’s need for a guard, I’m always the one on duty. I’m good at it, and the others have more important responsibilities.”

“But why that night?” she repeated, frustrated. “You just claimed you are not on guard duty every night.”

“For the same reason I always do,” Ikusaba said, as if the answer were obvious. “Yonaga-san’s master said I should.”

“I’ll add another person to the suspect list,” Naegi whispered to her.

“Who is this Yonaga-san and her master?”

“She’s a priestess,” Ikusaba said. “The voice she hears is different than whom Komaeda-kun answers to, but they are friends in the same circle. She’s not here, but will be back for tomorrow’s service.”

“Noted. Thank you for your time,” Kirigiri said.

Ikusaba gave them a little bow. “I hope I answered your questions correctly.”

Kirigiri grabbed Naegi and pulled him not into a corner, but outside completely. She parked them in the center of the parking lot where there were no hiding spots next to them, and made sure no one was eavesdropping. Naegi did as well, knowing exactly where this was going.

“So, you think that car has something to do with the body, right?” Naegi said. “Ikusaba-san said they went around to the back of the car, so they could have taken a body out of the trunk. That would work with our current theory, wouldn’t it?”

“It could.”

Naegi rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If Shinguji-kun’s testimony is accurate, he probably would have been in the garden near that time. I imagine Ikusaba-san would have seen the culprits if they came through the front, so they probably went around the back.”

“If that’s the case, they could have hidden behind the wall until Shinguji-kun returned inside,” Kirigiri said. “Which means the body was likely placed between midnight and one am. Assuming, that Shinguji isn’t the culprit himself.”

“So, where does that leave us?” Naegi asked.

“To begin with,” Kirigiri said. “we need to question Yonaga. I am also still suspicious that Komaeda did not report the sigils when he found the body. Additionally, we may be looking for a pair of suspects.”

“But at least we’re getting somewhere,” Naegi said, sounding excited.

“. . . Perhaps not,” she said. “You’re assuming Ikusaba-san’s telling the truth.”

“Huh? You think she isn’t?”

“It’s something we have to acknowledge,” Kirigiri pointed out. “When you were changing, I investigated the garden shed. All of the tools with sharp points have been removed.”

“That’s suspicious,” Naegi said.

“Indeed,” Kirigiri said. “However, if the victim’s body had been brought here in a trunk of a car, why wait until they arrived to kill her? Why would they use the tools in the shed instead of those with them? We haven’t received the toxicology reports, but I saw no evidence on the victim’s body that she was restrained. Of course, this is assuming those tools were the murder weapon.”

“That is strange.” Naegi looked off into the distance. “Kyoko, do you think this is a frame job? It’s just so convenient. The body being found in the backyard, strange sigils on it, the garden tools going missing . . . These would be very sloppy criminals if they belonged to this church. I mean, people usually at least try to hide the body.”

“We’ll have to uncover that truth later,” Kirigiri said. “Let’s return to the subject of Ikusaba. You heard it, didn’t you?”

“I heard many things,” Naegi said, amused.

“You were talking about her and Enoshima’s mother,” Kirigiri said. “Yet, when the topic turned to your family, she asked about your _father_.”

“That’s . . .” Naegi rocked back on his heels. “It could be a coincidence.”

“I would consider that a possibility,” Kirigiri said, “except that’s the _third_ person who made references to our families. Komaeda, Shinguji, Ikusaba, they all reference things they shouldn’t know.”

“They’ve done their research,” Naegi said quietly. “Honestly, I can still believe that question by Ikusaba was an honest mistake, but you’re right about Komaeda and Shinguji. I . . . be careful, okay?”

“If they truly know this much, then they must have expected us to take this case.”

“But why?” Naegi asked. “Why would they want one of the country’s best detectives on this case, especially if it ends up implicating them?”

She stared back at the church looming over them. “I have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Sorry,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’ve never seen her before.”_  
>  Biggest. Plot. Twist. Ever. XD
> 
> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri and Naegi meet the final important member of the church.


	7. Chapter 7

At least it wasn’t raining. Not yet, at any rate. However, the air held the musty stench of an approaching rainfall, and the clouds above were grey and heavy. The cool weather tickled her skin and she picked up her pace to keep warm. Her heels clicked against the road, drowning out the quieter slaps of Naegi’s shoes. Normally, they would have driven to Hope’s Peak, but their car had broken down yesterday – thankfully, close to their home. So, it was public transit today.

“Man, this place is far from the bus stop.” Naegi pulled down his collar, using the back of his hand to wipe away some moisture.

“It could be worse,” Kirigiri said. “Remember that time we chased a suspect through a garbage dump?”

Naegi shuddered. “I try not to. We threw out all the clothes I had been wearing and it still took days to get that stench out. I smell it in my nightmares, you know?”

“Perhaps, but,” she reached over and played with his tie, “I happen to like your new clothes better.”

“They are nice, aren’t they?” Naegi plucked at his own shoulders, making his shirt ripple. “Sayaka has good taste.”

“She does,” Kirigiri said approvingly. “It shows off your chest well.”

Though they had gone through this song and dance many times, though Kirigiri had long ago made a conscious decision to praise him more, Naegi still treated that as the first compliment he had ever received. His cheeks went cherry-red, he gulped, and she could sense him yearning to loosen his tie, to release some of that heat building up on his skin.

“Well, I have been working out,” he said proudly.

“I hope so,” she purred. “It’s the man who’s supposed to be taking down the suspects.”

He choked a little.

She put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. “Though I still find the memory of a little programmer slamming you to the ground to be quite amusing.”

“That’s not fair! Fujisaki-kun’s best friends are Owada-kun and Ishimaru-kun. They taught him how to do football tackles correctly.”

She patted the top of his head. “It’s fine. I’ll protect you.”

Despite her teasing, she knew Naegi was still in a great mood. He bumped her with his hip and she assumed it was an accident at first, but then his arm grazed hers and she knew what he wanted. She waited and sure enough, his hand just _happened_ to fall into hers. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw him glance at her to check whether it was okay. She squeezed back. They weren’t at the site yet; they weren’t working.

“We’ve been pretty busy ever since this case came up,” Naegi said casually.

“It’s only been three days.”

“I know, just . . .”

She understood. Naegi was naturally an open book. That meant when it came to things most people tended to be less subtle about, Naegi instead turned a metaphorical spotlight on himself. She nearly rolled her eyes; his adorableness when hinting for a kiss could be disarming. She turned her head and leaned in –

And at that moment, the rain broke.

She had an umbrella in her bag, but the moment was over. The rain had come suddenly and thick, and their shoes and ankles leaked water by the time they scurried into the church. Naegi took the umbrella and unzipped the bag as she looked around. Mostly empty. Good. They were here early, before everyone arrived for the service, just as she had hoped –

“Uh, Kyoko, why is that habit in here?” Naegi asked. “I thought we told Komaeda we would wash it before returning it.”

“We’re not returning it,” she said. “I want you to wear it.”

He had been in the process of pulling the habit out, but stopped with the job half-completed. “I thought you were kidding when you said I looked cute in that.”

“Do you remember that trick I told you with the two bugs?”

He groaned, face in his hands. “Kyoko . . .”

“I’ll meet you back here. It would be best if you change before anyone sees you in your normal outfit.”

The two-bug trick. She did not know the proper name for it, but she knew the concept and that it was a trick once used by spies. The concept was simple. Say Country A and B were enemies, and a diplomat from Country A walked into Country B. It would be reasonable to assume that diplomat was bugged. Naturally, they would be searched until the bug was found. The trick then was that the diplomat’s handlers would wire them with two bugs. One was excellently hidden, and its purpose was to allow the handler to listen in on what the diplomat overheard. The other was well-hidden too, but not as well as the first, for its purpose was to be _found_. The men searching the diplomat expected to find a bug, so the handlers needed to provide one. One may think that finding that one bug would make the guards more suspicious. But allegedly, it worked the opposite way; because they had expected to find a bug, finding that bug relaxed them and allowed the other one to slip through.

That was what they were going to do now. She was the obvious bug and Naegi would be the hidden one.

“I’m going to go up to the bell tower,” she told Naegi after he changed. “Ikusaba-san said you could see the front entrance from there.”

“Do you want me to mingle?” Naegi asked. He tried to smooth out some wrinkles – a nervous gesture.

“No, draw as little attention to yourself as possible,” Kirigiri told him. “Keep an eye out for those arriving by bicycle.”

He nodded, and the two parted ways. She found her way back into the dark hall and then up the spiraling staircase to the third floor.

The first thing that struck her was how empty and drab it seemed. The first floor, carved of stone, had shone enough to reflect your face. This wooden, third floor seemed worn and dusty to her eyes. The bell, likewise, was a cold blue-gray that didn’t reflect much light and the only notable piece of furniture. Obviously, the designers hadn’t expected many people to reach this floor.

She checked the room’s window. Most of the parking lot was visible from here, except for the strip directly below. That gave the culprit a way to sneak into the church, if need be. The only problem they would have encountered was the high wall around the parking lot, which they would have had to scale. They could have come through the front gate instead, but Ikusaba would have seen them.

But they could have easily gone straight to the back. The high walls of the parking lot, while preventing trespassers from easily reaching the front door without detection, also provided plenty of shelter for those sneaking around beyond the wall. She could only reliably see half of the main road.

She took her position by the window and reflexively, checked once more to make sure no one was here with her. It was while doing that last check she realized something important: this room was not open to the outside. That made no sense. The purpose of a church bell was to bring the community in for communion. It _needed_ to be heard across the land. While it was true that Hope’s Peak didn’t have a community nearby to attract, church designers were very traditional. So, what did this mean? Had this been an honest mistake by the architects, or was the bell intended for show only? While it was a curious question, she doubted it had anything to do with the case. At most, it was simply more evidence that Hope’s Peak was a front.

She watched the parking lot and waited. Naegi and her had arrived half an hour before the service would begin, so there would be some time to wait. And wait, she did. She wouldn’t be much of a detective without patience.

But eventually, even her patience wore thin. She checked the time on her phone: ten to eleven. Twenty minutes after the service should start. No one had arrived yet. Had she gotten the time wrong? Scowling, she walked back down the stairs, seeking Komaeda to ask –

The church was full.

She stopped cold. She looked upon the nave, packed with a small crowd of worshippers. How? When? What -?

“. . .  I would like to introduce Yonaga-san,” Komaeda was telling the crowd. “I trust that you’ll treat her with the same respect as you treat me.”

Ah, that was convenient. She kept a careful eye open as Komaeda waved someone forward –

What.

“Yoo-hoo! Hello, everyone. My name is Angie Yonaga, speaker for the great Atua! Thank you for letting me stay with you.”

Kirigiri knew of no other churches that would have allowed a priestess to dress like _that_. Churches were conservative and Yonaga wasn’t even wearing a shirt. She had a yellow jacket on, yes, but the front lay open and bared the woman’s dark skin. At least she wore what appeared to be a white bikini underneath, and a skirt that . . . were those _paintbrushes_ tied to the skirt’s sash?

“The Elders always welcome the speakers of their kin,” Komaeda said, unbothered by the non-traditional garb of his guest. “It’s wonderful to see so many of them coming together here.”

Kirigiri raised an eyebrow. Oh? Were there multiple sects present? Interesting.

“Atua tell me the Elders love all their children,” Yonaga said cheerfully. “It’s the duty of His voice to make sure they’re happy.”

“I appreciate it,” Komaeda said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll provide as much help as your kind can.”

With that, Komaeda stepped forward to address his flock. “I’m happy to see everyone was able to make it here. Just remember, it is in your own best interest to do so. They will be here soon. They will remember who’s devoted and it’s only their choice that will save you from the fate of all those other, unimportant people.”

“I wonder . . .” Komaeda’s voice took on a strange tone. It was a richly layered one, one that seemed deeper than his regular pitch, one that was soft yet carried for miles. “Do you sense it yet? Humanity is blind and weak, but even they should be able to feel the great power encroaching on the universe. But those of you who are chosen, who actually have some worth . . . What about you?”

With practiced ease, Komaeda stepped off the chancel and took the hand of one of the devotees. “When you close your eyes, what do you feel?”

The devotee, eyes closed, chin raised towards the sky, spoke softly. “I feel . . . I feel a void. A great emptiness. A . . .”

“A space so large you think you’ll disappear inside?” Komaeda finished. “A shape so strange and unfathomable that in your mind, it becomes equivalent to nothing? Yes, that is what I would expect someone like you to think.”

Placing thoughts in the mind of his congregation, was he? Not to mention feigning authority by pretending only he could understand the things of which he spoke. Komaeda was more manipulative than she had given him credit for. Though not manipulative enough to be a threat.

“What about you?” Komaeda asked another. “What do you feel?”

“A presence,” the man whispered. “They’re looking at me. They’re looking at _everything_. Stripping everything to the bone . . .”

Komaeda grinned. His palm rested on the man’s cheek. “There’s no need to despair. They favour you. They favour everyone here.”

Komaeda returned to the chancel. “Today, hundreds of humans have been born. Hundreds of humans have died. How many of them are you mourning for? On a lucky day, one or two. But the rest of them die and the world is no worse for wear. That is the nature of humanity. It is born; it lives; it will die, and the universe will not notice. The end of humanity has always lingered in your innate consciousness – ragnarok, the last judgement, the sermon of the seven suns – the world dreams of the end. Your only mistake is allotting your kind more worth than they deserve. Humans are specks in the universe.

“But you don’t need to despair. You are _special_. The Elders looked upon you, and saw something worthy. What you will feel upon seeing them. . . Ah, it’s indescribable. So, keep that hope burning close to your chest. Serve them now, and perhaps you will have the honour of serving them into eternity. Be faithful, and they may acknowledge you.”

Kirigiri rolled her eyes. Even his sermons were elitist.

Komaeda walked to the altar. Usually, that was where priests placed their copy of the scripture. Komaeda though had his tucked in at his side. The altar he stood behind was flat instead of angled, and a small pan of water sat upon it. Placing his hands on either side of the pan, Komaeda stared into the liquid’s depths.

“They’re ready. Everyone, it is time to welcome a new member to our family.”

Yonaga, arms swinging at her side, marched towards the crowd. They had divided into two groups, leaving a path in the center for her to walk through. Her eyes lazily scanned over the crowd and for an instance, they wandered to the doorway where Kirigiri was. She swore Yonaga was smiling directly at her.

“H-hey!”

She didn’t need the eye contact. The mere note of panic she heard was enough to make her take a step forward. Yonaga had clamped down on Naegi’s arm and was dragging the hapless detective towards the elevated chancel, where Komaeda waited with his arms held open. Naegi resisted a bit, trying to convince Yonaga to stop without revealing whom he really was. That was the same reason Kirigiri herself kept her mouth shut. Let the congregation know and they would face a fanatic horde.

“Welcome,” Komaeda said as Yonaga shoved Naegi up onto the chancel. “This is the newest member of our family.”

What was that bastard up to?

Komaeda – that insufferable prick – wrapped his arms around Naegi; Naegi’s expression screamed that it was an incredibly awkward hug. The two separated, Komaeda’s hands lingering on Naegi’s shoulders. Naegi himself stared into Komaeda’s eyes, seemingly frozen by the awkwardness of the entire situation.

“Please, tell them your name.”

Her breath caught. _Naegi, don’t –_

“N-Naegi Makoto.”

“Welcome, Naegi Makoto.”

The crowd echoed Komaeda’s words, and it made her shudder. The words were said with a dull, echoing cadence, like a robot reading off a screen.

“I know that everyone will treat him well,” Komaeda said. “He has my personal stamp of approval. Will you join our happy family, Naegi Makoto?”

A silence followed as Naegi didn’t know what to do. To be fair, she didn’t know what they expected of him either.

“Thank you?” Naegi tried.

Komaeda didn’t move. “You’re welcome. Do you accept my invitation?”

“Uh, yeah! Of course. I am so happy to join this church and . . . do my divine duties!” Naegi said too loudly. The crowd must have heard the abnormal loudness, too. There was no way . . .

But somehow, his cover withstood that. There were no murmurs of discontent and Komaeda looked pleased.

“Let’s begin the initiation,” Komaeda said.

“What?” she and Naegi said at the same time. She strode towards the front of the room, keeping near the wall, so that she could see _exactly_ what Naegi was doing. She stared hard at Naegi. His cover be damned; if Komaeda put one toe out of line, she would gladly arrest him in front of everyone.

“Words are meaningless,” Komaeda was saying to Naegi. “We need to make sure the Elders recognize you when they wake. Don’t worry. What you have to do is very simple.”

From the back of the nave came two people: Enoshima, grinning like a cat and waving at the people she passed; and Ikusaba, lugging a wooden basket filled with water. She laid the basket in the center of the chancel and stepped aside.

“Stand in the water,” Komaeda commanded. “We were born from water, and now it is time for you to return to water.”

With the intensity of Kirigiri’s stare, it was only natural that Naegi would find her gaze. He asked her a silent question; she nodded slightly in answer. Standing in water seemed harmless.

Naegi stepped into the basket. The water sloshed a little, but none of it splashed out. He looked to Komaeda for further instructions.

“You could have taken your shoes off first,” Enoshima said flatly.

“Maybe he prefers it this way,” Komaeda said, ignoring Naegi’s blush.

Ikusaba returned, this time with . . . a full-length mirror? She dropped it in front of Naegi, and his arm made a motion that looked like he wanted to readjust his clothes. (He really was nervous, then.)

“Stare into the mirror,” Komaeda said. He walked behind Naegi, his hand tracing over the back of his collarbone in a way that decisively bothered her. “He will look back at you, and know you. He will see what you’ve become.”

Naegi’s shoulders heaved in a sigh, but he did as commanded. Komaeda patted him on the back, then marched to the front of the chancel. He raised his arms, and began to speak.

. . .

That. . .

That wasn’t . . .

That wasn’t fair. How could she take notes when they were speaking another language?

Whatever they were speaking, she didn’t recognize it. They uttered harsh, aggressive sounds, sounds that almost hurt to hear. Yet there was a flow to them, like the mournful, deep melody of a lonely whale. She tried, she tried to remember a few words so she could try to search them later, but they wouldn’t stick. They rushed through the holes of her memory like water, leaving her grabbing at air. She opened her phone quickly and started to record.

In front of the mirror, Naegi jumped. Komaeda didn’t stop speaking when Ikusaba approached one last time. She held another bucket of water, although this one was much smaller. Komaeda took it with both hands, then approached Naegi from behind.

He dumped the bucket’s contents onto her partner. Kirigiri squinted. That color . . . was that from the swamp?

Poor Naegi looked very dejected.

“Welcome to the family,” Komaeda said once more. “Let’s take a break while our new family member cleans up.”

Finally.

She marched up to Komaeda and Naegi. Naegi was out of the bucket and holding his arms up; he looked guilty about getting water on the floor. Komaeda smiled at her, as if they were friends, as if nothing was wrong. She gritted her teeth to keep a snarl off her face, and braced herself for a confrontation.

“Hello, Kirigiri-san,” Komaeda said.

“What was that?” she demanded.

“That was an initiation into our family,” Komaeda said cheerfully.

“You know what I mean.”

Komaeda said, “Perhaps I was mistaken, but I assumed you had Naegi-kun dress in these clothes as a disguise.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” she said slowly, taken off-guard.

“I just wanted to do my part and help,” Komaeda said. “He’s been welcome into our protection. No one will question why he’s here anymore.”

That was . . . that made a lot of sense. And she hated it. She wanted a reason to be angry with him, but even she had to admit that his actions were logical.

“I’ll forgive you this time,” she said, “but next time you want to do something like that, _warn us_.”

She almost snatched Naegi’s arm and dragged him away, but she remembered his cover just in time. She stomped away instead, knowing Naegi would follow of his own accord.

“Kyoko!” he said breathlessly, running after her. “Are you mad at me?”

“Of course not,” she said. “It was obvious you weren’t expecting that either. Did you have fun?”

“No,” he said, brow furrowing. “It was like I fell in the swamp again. I think I smell.”

“Probably,” she said with a shrug. “Did you see anything in that mirror?”

He rolled his eyes. “It was rigged. Didn’t even show my reflection. They just stuck a poster of a bunch of eyes behind it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri and Naegi talk to Angie Yonaga.


	8. Chapter 8

Kirigiri was supposed to be the obvious bug, the diversion. Yet as she prowled the crowd, she found herself ignored. Devotees would walk past her without glancing at the obvious outsider. When others searched for their friends, their gaze passed over her as if she didn’t exist. It was strange to be ignored. She always expected to receive quiet attention, whether it be due to the presence she extruded or her reputation.

And Naegi? Naegi who bore their uniform and slunk around avoiding eye contact? Komaeda’s ‘ _help_ ’ had done the opposite of his alleged intentions, for they saw him. It was like watching a boat cut through water: Naegi moved, and the crowd parted before him. They moved to give him space, creating a ripple that reached the very edges of the crowd. When Naegi passed them, their attention lingered on his back. Even Kamukura and Enoshima, near the opposite wall, were watching him.

 _This is a disaster,_ she thought.

“Hello! Are you Kyoko?”

. . . Had Yonaga used her first name? She turned. Yonaga stood there, bouncing up and down with her . . . sneakers. (Kirigiri was beginning to believe these people would find no fault with _Hagakure’s_ outfit.)

She cut to the chase. “You asked Ikusaba-san to stand guard the night the body appeared.”

“I did!” Yonaga said, as if it didn’t immediately raise her several ranks on Kirigiri’s suspect list. “Atua told me someone should keep an eye out that night.”

“You know she didn’t see anything that night, right?” Kirigiri lied.

To her surprise, Yonaga laughed. “No, no, no! Murkuro did see something; she saw whatever Atua wanted her to see. Our minds are so small that seeing nothing might be meaningless to us, but to the all-seeing Elders, nothing can mean many things!”

Interesting. Yonaga didn’t seem to know Kirigiri was lying, which meant she and Ikusaba hadn’t exchanged notes. She also hadn’t failed to note the plural Yonaga used when speaking of The Elders. Although Kirigiri did not speak the language of Komaeda’s sermon, she thought she understood the religion’s structure. There were several sects that all believed in the same pantheon of gods, but each sect honoured an individual god. Yonaga’s sect obviously worshipped this Atua, but she had no idea who Komaeda’s sect worshipped.

“Yonaga-san, hi.” Naegi, still looking like he had stood outside in the rain, walked over. “I didn’t get a chance to formally introduce myself during the service. I’m Naegi Makoto.”

“Oh, yes! I’m Angie. I’m so honoured to finally meet you!” Yonaga said. “I’m happy the family is growing so quickly.”

Did Yonaga not know the initiation was a sham and Naegi was an undercover detective? It seemed possible. Kirigiri asked, “It is really growing that rapidly?”

“Uh-huh! Junko told me they used to wait forever before they would let new people into the family. But because of how quickly everything’s happening, they had to speed everything up. Oh, I heard you’re interviewing everyone, so I wanted to warn you that you shouldn’t get too close to Izuru.” Yonaga leaned forwards and whispered loudly, “You might make Junko mad.”

Kirigiri would have said something snappy, but Naegi, forever the peacemaker, stepped in. “Enoshima-san knows she doesn’t need to worry about that. Kirigiri-san and I are dating.”

Yonaga was smiling. That hadn’t changed. But her eyes had. They had changed from the bright eyes of a child enjoying life, to the cold, dead eyes of a shark. Her hands, by her side, curled into her skirt.

“You two are together?” she repeated.

“It’s been nearly three years now,” Naegi said.

“Yes, it has,” Kirigiri said, not taking her eyes off Yonaga.

Yonaga studied them curiously, like they were dogs performing a neat trick.

“You don’t need to worry about Atua,” she said to them. “He is merciful. He forgives everyone who repents. But you should be more careful of the _others_. Not all of them like humans as much as He does.”

Kirigiri said nothing. She stared down her nose at Yonaga, silent; that was sometimes enough to intimidate suspects, but Yonaga was unaffected.

“Atua’s the youngest; he only made his first star a century ago,” Yonaga said, “but he still has to be careful because if he sneezed, he could blow away this entire galaxy. Atua can crush the world with His finger! And if He were very mad, He could peel your soul from your mortal shell to torment you forever. So, you should do your best not to upset the Elders!”

Some of that light returned to Yonaga’s face, as if she had invited them to a party and hadn’t threatened them. But Kirigiri had not forgotten. Kirigiri took a step forward. If they were the same height, she and Yonaga would have been standing nose-to-nose.

“Is that a threat?” Kirigiri demanded.

But before she could get an answer, Komaeda sauntered by, stopping beside Yonaga. “Is there a problem here?”

“I was letting them know why they shouldn’t upset the Elders,” Yonaga said in a cheerful way that very much did not mesh with the threats she had been delivering.

“Let’s talk in private for a second.” Komaeda flashed Naegi and Kirigiri a look that seemed like it was supposed to be apologetic, and then led Yonaga away. The low murmur of his voice carried to them, but they couldn’t make out the words.

“Do you think he’s been telling people that he’s interested in you?” Naegi asked with adorably serious worry.

“He can tell as many people as he wants,” Kirigiri said, fiddling with a strand of Naegi’s hair. “It doesn’t matter.”

Komaeda approached them again. “I’m sorry about that. Yonaga-san knows Naegi-kun was baptized, but Kirigiri-san is not. A match like that is an affront to the Elders.”

Funnily enough, that all made sense. Even with her limited exposure to religion, Kirigiri knew that many of them looked down upon interfaith marriages. Yonaga’s reaction would have been worse if she had known Kirigiri was also an atheist.

“Yep, I’m sorry,” Yonaga piped up from behind Komaeda. “I only wanted to save your soul from Their divine and justified wrath, but Nagito told me there’s nothing to worry about!”

“At least you had good intentions,” Naegi said. Kirigiri noticed that he was self-consciously still avoiding eye contact with Komaeda. “You’re not from this country, are you?”

“Nope! I come from very far away.”

Ah. That would explain the use of given names.

Naegi nodded. “Uh, so Angie, how did you find Atua?”

Kirigiri preened with approval. Yes, that was the right move. Change the topic to harmless subjects while Komaeda was listening. They’d ask about the case once they had Yonaga alone –

“Your given name, Angie?” Komaeda repeated. He turned slowly, and stared down at Yonaga.

“I want him to feel welcome!” Yonaga said.

For a few awkward seconds, Komaeda just stared at her. Then, he grunted and shrugged with one shoulder. “Alright. That’s okay for now. Go ahead and told them how you found Atua.”

It was Yonaga’s brightest smile yet. Her eyes widened with a feverish glee and she bounced onto her tiptoes. “I didn’t find Atua. Atua found me!”

Naegi smiled. “Ah, I see. Did he come to you in a dream?”

Yonaga laughed. “No, I drowned.”

Naegi and Kirigiri blinked.

“Sorry, what?” Naegi said.

“I drowned,” Yonaga said. “I drowned, and He found me.”

“You mean you had a hallucination when you began to black out,” Kirigiri said.

“No. I drowned.”

Kirigiri and Naegi exchanged a look. Silently, she suggested, _Someone must have pulled her out and revived her_.

“It’s terrible that happened to you,” Naegi said neutrally.

“I thought so at first, too,” Yonaga said. “It was the other villagers who left me there, but if they hadn’t, I don’t know if I would have become His voice.”

“You mustn’t think that way,” Komaeda said smoothly. “Atua chose you, and you know what that means. You’re _special_.”

That was one way to put it.

Fiercely, Naegi said, “Hold on, let’s back up a second. Are you saying the other villagers tried to kill you?”

“Yes,” Yonaga said serenely. “I was working for one of the village temples – worshipping _false_ gods – and I thought I began to hear their voices. But it was really Atua’s voice, and the priests didn’t like what I was saying, so they held me under the ocean. But after I drowned, Atua found my soul in the water. He plucked the life from a star and made me His. After that, I learned how to listen and obey His will. About a week ago, He brought me here.”

Naegi turned. He looked at the mural at the back of the chancel. It did look like stormy seas, although they couldn’t see anything that resembled a star, or a god.

“And now she’s been saved,” Komaeda said. “She’s one of the chosen few.”

“Yes. Praise be to Atua!” Yonaga held her arms up and out, as if basking in a spotlight.

This conversation was odd and, well, boring, but at least it had placated Komaeda. He let them be – _finally_ – and Kirigiri locked onto her prey.

“What do you know about the body that was discovered?” Kirigiri asked.

“I heard that Nagito found it,” Yonaga said. “The police sent you to investigate it, and you brought Makoto here.” (Ah, so she did know Naegi was a detective. Pity.) “But the victim wasn’t part of our family, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“She’s still a person,” Naegi said sharply. “Even if she didn’t worship your gods, she lived and breathed, and someone took that from her!”

“You misunderstand,” Yonaga said. “If she’s another simple human like me, then the Elders could take a star and give her everlasting life as well.”

And obviously, they weren’t about to do that for this victim. Kirigiri didn’t bothering asking why; she was sure Yonaga’s answer would be nonsensical. She moved on and asked about the night before.

“After Atua asked me to put Murkuro on watch, I helped him prepare one of His divine rituals. Then I devoted my night to prayer. Uh, around noon the next day, I went to town to pick up supplies.”

“Can you tell us about this ritual?” she asked. She honestly didn’t care about any religious ritual, but she wanted to establish a timeframe of where Yonaga had been at what time.

“Sorry, I can’t,” Yonaga said. “You aren’t part of the family.”

Naegi raised his hand. “What about me?”

Yonaga seriously looked like she was considering it. She had her hand up to her chin and everything. “I think if I told you, you would tell Kyoko.”

Ah. She got them there.

“Can you tell us where you were praying?” Kirigiri asked instead.

“In one of the confessionals. They’re over there.”

Yonaga pointed to the side of the room. Not the side that held the enclosed hall leading to the backyard, but the other side. Kirigiri checked whether Yonaga knew anything else, and she and Naegi headed over to the confessionals.

“Makoto, I want you to go inside.”

“Okay,” he said, pushing up his very floppy sleeves. “What am I looking for?”

“Nothing. I want you to scream once you’re inside.”

He gave her a look of dismay. “But if they’re not soundproof . . .”

“That’s what we’re finding out.”

He tried feebly to protest and protect his pride, but sure enough, he gave in. The door closed behind him. Kirigiri pressed her ear to the door and waited.

Nothing.

She stepped back. Still nothing. She opened the door leading to the other booth of the confessional.

“. . . aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!” came Naegi’s loud scream. Ah, so they were soundproof at least on this floor. She quickly entered and closed the door behind her.

Naegi was a much louder screamer than she remembered. It must have been the room acoustics; the confessionals were cramped. As she considered that, there was a loud gasp as Naegi ran out of breath and started panting. She reached up carefully, and then ripped open the screen dividing them.

She stared at Naegi stoically. “You can’t be heard from outside. You should confess your sins.”

He perked up. “What’s that?”

“Confess your sins.”

He slid over to the screen, smirking. “Are you sure you want to know what I’m thinking?”

“Sounds like you’re having boy thoughts.”

“Actually, I’m remembering something you said . . .”

“Alright. I can handle it.”

“If you say so. But I’m warning you: you were more than a little drunk at the time.” As casually as he could, he stretched and then leaned forward. He whispered into her ear.

She pushed him back. “No!”

Naegi just laughed at her. “You sure? No one can hear us and the crime scene’s so close –”

“ _We're not discussing this!_ ” If she were anyone but herself, her cheeks would be bright red. “It’s soundproof on the main floor, but that doesn’t mean it’s soundproof on every floor.”

Naegi’s mouth opened in horror.

“I can't believe I told you. . ." She shook her head. She needed to focus on the investigation. "Stay here. Keep making noise. I’ll see what the other floors have to offer.”

She left him in there and embarked on her journey. The second and third floor came up clean, but she found the doors to the floors above were locked. That was irritating. She would need Naegi to run a distraction sometime so she could investigate. It did appear however, that the confessionals were fully soundproof.

She returned to the confessionals. Along the way though, she found a copy of the church’s scripture on the ground, and snatched it up for her own research. Once it was stuffed into her purse, she knocked on the confessional and waited for Naegi to remerge.

Ah, yes. That was right: soundproof. She opened the door herself.

She peered inside. “Makoto?”

. . . Where was he? She checked her phone. No messages. Had he gone to the washroom? She would had preferred a warning if he had, but sometimes he forgot things like that.

Despite what others may say about her, she did have respect for privacy. That’s why she waited outside the washroom instead of storming in to search for him. But five minutes later, she was growing concerned.

“Kamukura-kun.” She briskly walked over to him.

“Hey, Kirigiri-san.” He smiled at her. “Can I help you?”

“Could you check if Makoto is in there?”

He looked confused, but he went inside, and she waited for him. He came out shortly after and shook his head.

Then where was Naegi? It wasn’t like him to abandon his post in the middle of a mission. Unless someone had opened the door and demanded he leave so they could use the confessional themselves. Her incredibly un-sneaky boyfriend would have caved and gone . . . where? Her first instinct was to say Naegi would have gone looking for her, but she hadn’t seen him on the way down. He could be talking to someone. Naegi liked to do that.

But she didn’t see him when she looked around. Kamukura noticed and asked. She told him the truth: she was looking for Naegi.

Kamukura wasn’t the only one to have noticed. Enoshima was off to the side, and Kirigiri swore the other woman was laughing. She gritted her teeth and started her march around the church once more. Kamukura said something to Enoshima, but whatever it was, it wasn’t enough to get Enoshima’s leering gaze off her.

Her fingers moved rapidly as she typed out a text. She tried to ignore Enoshima in the background. _Tried_. Something uncomfortable gnawed at the lining of her stomach. This wasn’t like Naegi like at all.

“Kirigiri-san, is something wrong?”

She nearly jumped, having failed to notice Komaeda behind her. She told him what had happened without any real trust behind her words.

“Hmm . . . You said you checked the confessional, right?” Komaeda asked.

What? What was she, five? She snapped back, “Of course I did. I wouldn’t know he was gone if I hadn’t.”

“Did you check both sides?” Komaeda asked. “You could have looked in the wrong booth.”

For a second, she indulged herself and imagined slapping Komaeda. “I looked exactly where I left him.”

“Why don’t we take another look?” Komaeda said. Patronisingly. Like she was a child with a wild imagination. He sauntered over to the confessional and opened the door.

“That’s the wrong one,” Kirigiri said pointedly.

“Yes,” Komaeda said lightly, clicking his tongue, “not here. Let’s try the other one.”

“I already checked –”

The door opened.

Naegi, phone in hand and blasting music, blinked back at them.

“Komaeda-kun! Uh, I was just . . .”

“What are you doing here?” Kirigiri said aloud.

“I thought you told me to wait here,” Naegi said.

“I did, but. . . You weren’t there before. I checked.”

He looked at her strangely. “I haven’t moved. I stopped screaming, but that’s because my throat was starting to hurt.”

“No . . .! I _checked_. . .”

“It must have been the wrong side,” Komaeda said cheerfully. “Or maybe Atua was playing a prank. I hear he enjoys watching the reactions of mortals.”

“I know where I searched,” she said. But Naegi was there and looking confused, and she had no other explanation.

“You must have checked the wrong one,” Naegi said uncertainly.

Komaeda chuckled. “Well, nobody was hurt this time. Have fun investigating!”

He walked off.

“I checked,” Kirigiri repeated, because that was all she could do. Because she had checked this very booth.

Hadn’t she?

* * *

“You still upset about that?”

After a short pause, she answered with, “It doesn’t make sense. I’m not an idiot.”

She felt his gaze on her. “Kyoko, I don’t care what Togami-kun or your grandfather might have told you. Detectives are allowed to make mistakes. I know you don’t like Komaeda –”

“This isn’t about like or dislike,” she said sternly, irritated that he would dare think that of her. “It’s about whether you trust me.”

“Of course I do, but I swear I didn’t move. Do you trust _me_?”

“Yes.”

She fell silent after that. She did trust Naegi. If he hadn’t moved, then the only logical explanation. . . was the same one Komaeda had offered as an olive branch. It rankled her to accept it, made her feel like a cat whose fur was being stroked the wrong way.

“Hey.” Naegi stepped up his pace a bit, so that he lingered in front of her. “Let’s go home. I’ll cook dinner, you can relax in the bath, and we’ll have a movie night afterwards.”

She supposed that could salvage the day. She squeezed his hand in acceptance as the bus appeared on the horizon.

It would be a while before their stop, so she pulled out the scripture she had confiscated. This didn’t look like a language she knew either. An ornate circle surrounded the center of the cover, and there were symbols written upon it that might have been the language’s alphabet. On the edges of the circle, two triangular eyes sprouted off leered at the audience. In the center of the circle lay a red symbol that looked like a slanted lightning bolt. Of the slanted silhouette of a bat with no head.

“Did they give that to you or did you confiscate it?” Naegi asked.

“Confiscated it.”

He didn’t look a bit surprised. In their first few cases, Naegi had been concerned by what he considered to be ‘Kirigiri’s sticky fingers,’ but experience had told him there was no point in trying to stop her.

He asked, “Can I read it while you’re in the bath?”

“I didn’t think you’d be interested, but go ahead.” She didn’t mention that it wasn’t in a language he knew; she wanted the fun of seeing his reaction when he tried to read it.

“Great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to figure out what the hell we’re having for dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: 
> 
> Togami: So, how's the case going?  
> Kirigiri: I hate all of them >:(  
> Togami: ... You don't mince words.


	9. Chapter 9

“I hate all of them.”

“As usual, your assessment is straightforward,” Togami said carefully. “However, I must say that I’m surprised. Even for you, this is unusually blunt.”

Arms crossed over her chest, legs crossed at the knee, Kirigiri said, “I don’t like them.”

“Even Kamukura-kun?” Naegi asked, looking like he was deciding whether to give her puppy-eyes. “He seemed cool.”

“Which is why he’s suspicious.”

“I know you have good instincts about suspects,” Togami said, “but let’s focus on something more concrete than personal feelings.”

Togami paced, then stopped in front of the whiteboard covering half the wall. Magnets pinned pictures of each primary church member in place, and a generous space lay underneath for anything they wanted to write. In front of Togami was a long, rectangular table for meetings, although right now, only Kirigiri and Naegi sat at it.

“We’ll start with Komaeda Nagito,” Kirigiri said. “He knows too much about us. He says his family has had an encounter with mine in the past. My grandfather has been unable to locate a past case with a Komaeda as a belligerent, so my working theory is that it was a proxy case.”

“Like a hit ordered by his ancestor,” Togami said. “You think we’re dealing with a crime family.”

“He thinks this is a game,” Kirigiri said. “He’s arrogant and patronizing; he’s said things with the apparent intent to annoy us. He forced Makoto into a nun’s habit –”

“He what?” Togami looked at Naegi, flabbergasted.

“There’s a swamp out in the back,” Naegi mumbled. He hunched over the table, like he wanted to bash his head against it. “I fell in and he gave me some clothes to change into. Really, it’s not as bad as she says.”

“It wouldn’t be if he hadn’t baptized you after,” she insisted.

“Hold on.” Togami gave a little shake of his head, as if waking up. “Explain.”

“Since he had the outfit, I intended for Makoto to spend the service undercover. Komaeda claimed he knew that and the baptism was intended to help him fit in, but I think he did that just to annoy us.” Her voice momentarily wobbled with anger, and that was enough to make her grit her teeth and steel her self-control. “Enoshima Junko acts the same way. They’re toying with us.”

“Anything to connect either of them to the crime?” Togami asked.

“There’s no solid evidence,” she said. “The person who reported the body is always suspicious. However, Enoshima Junko oversaw the garden during the period and is the most likely to know the best time to sneak in a body. If the garden tools were the murder weapon, she would also have the easiest access.”

Togami wrote some quick notes on the whiteboard. “She’s dating Kamukura Izuru, correct?”

“Yes, and he’s very suspicious. Compared to the others, he’s overly helpful despite apparently knowing nothing. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s part of a good cop, bad cop routine they’re trying to play on us.”

“But there’s no physical evidence connecting him to the crime yet,” Togami said.

“There’s no physical evidence connecting anyone to the crime. Only circumstantial and suspicious behaviour.”

She leaned back in her chair. Next to her, Naegi was carelessly flipping through the pages of the unreadable scripture Kirigiri had grabbed.

“The most valuable testimony is from Ikusaba Mukuro, which is backed up by the testimony of Yonaga Angie. Ikusaba states that she saw a car pull up to the church around midnight, and that two exited and went around the back. I believe that one of those two people were the victim, or that the victim had been restrained in the trunk.”

Togami tapped his chin. “I’ll have to place some doubt on the victim being restrained there. The autopsy is finished.”

Togami walked over to the side of the room where a small desk lay, and grabbed a paper upon it. He started to read.

“Cause of death is blood loss from a single stab wound; no other wounds were found. Notching was found in the wound path. The weapon appeared to be double-edged. Bruising was found around the site, but it’s unknown whether it’s the result of a blade guard or a fist. No signs of physical restraints were found, nor were there any signs she was manhandled during the attack. Victim did not die immediately.” Togami looked up at them. “The DNA results have confirmed this is Nanami Chiaki.”

“Notching,” Naegi repeated. “She was probably conscious when she was stabbed. That’s horrible.”

But Kirigiri had heard something else. “She wasn’t killed in the garden. If she was alive after the attack, it’s unlikely she would have lain there without any sort of struggle.”

“If she was a devotee, she might have,” Togami said. “However, I am not finished. The toxicology report came back clean. She wasn’t drugged.”

“If she was in the trunk, it’s likely she was already dead,” Kirigiri said.

“Hold on.” Naegi looked back and forth, looking puzzled. “If she was dead when they drove in, why would garden tools be the murder weapon?”

“I’ve wondered about that, too, and I’m beginning to think your framing theory has merit,” Kirigiri told him. “Given the behaviours of the suspects and the testimonies we’ve received, I believe Komaeda and Enoshima may be attempting to frame Yonaga.”

A frame job. One may think that was an impossible theory, especially when Komaeda and Enoshima had deliberately brought two superb detectives into their lair, but if criminals had one thing in spades, it was arrogance. How many times had a would-be mastermind believed they could outwit the police? How many times had she seen people on the stand try to manipulate the prosecution and jury? Komaeda and Enoshima certainly struck her as arrogant, so she was willing to believe the worst of them.

“That’s . . .Wow. I’m honoured you like my theory, but you _really_ need to explain this to me,” Naegi said.

“Enoshima, Komaeda, Shinguji and Ikusaba have all alluded to things in our past that they shouldn’t know. This implies that they’ve done heavy research on either us specifically or our department. There’s no reason for that unless they were expecting to deal with detectives eventually. The location of the body and the sigils point – too obviously – towards a religious motive to the murder; Yonaga is a priestess. Yonaga asked Ikusaba to keep a watch out that night. I believe she suspected the others were up to something.”

Naegi said, “If Ikusaba is Enoshima’s older sister, why would Yonaga ask Ikusaba for help?”

“Enoshima and Ikusaba do not share the same last names,” Kirigiri said. “Yonaga also testified that she’s only been at Hope’s Peak for a week. She may not have known they were related. Don’t forget too, that Yonaga was unaware that Ikusaba did see someone; the two of them are not working as closely together as it seems.”

“If that’s the case, why would Ikusaba reveal that information to you?” Togami asked. He adjusted his glasses and looked at her thoughtfully.

“Ikusaba was nervous throughout the interrogation,” Kirigiri said. “She seemed uncomfortable when we told her she had helped us. Some of the things Yonaga said while Komaeda was listening . . . that the others turned on her when she claimed to hear the voice of God, as she allegedly hears Atua now. . . I can only wonder if she was trying to tell us something discreetly.”

“I’m going to see if we can get Yonaga to come in for questioning,” Togami said immediately. “If what you’re saying is true, we need to talk to her without the other church members present.”

Togami walked out of the room. Naegi still had the scripture open, but he paused in his browsing.

“If this is a frame job, if it wasn’t even a real ritual, then it makes this murder even more horrible,” he said darkly. “She died because of someone else’s fight.”

“Few murders are fair.”

Naegi sighed heavily. He flipped the scripture closed so that the back cover faced him, and rested with his chin in his hand and elbow on the book. She wasn’t sure she was meant to hear him when he mumbled, “Sometimes, I hate this job.”

She watched him. Pushed her chair back. Scooted in her seat so they were closer. The warmth of Naegi’s body pressed against her glove as she rubbed a small circle into his back.

“I understand. What we do isn’t easy, but it’s important,” she told him. “Without people like us, none of these families would ever receive closure. These murderers would still roam the streets, free to strike again. What you do, it makes a difference.”

He grunted, but leaned towards her, melting into her touch. He twitched when the door opened, as if to tear away, but she threaded her fingers into his shirt and kept him there.

“Oh, Kirigiri-san! Naegi-kun! Um, I wanted to talk to you about the audio file you sent me.”

“Yes, did you determine the language they were using?” Kirigiri asked Fujisaki.

Fujisaki bit his lip. “No, I couldn’t. Did you leave the phone in your pocket while you were recording?”

“I did. Does it matter that much?”

“It does because I can’t make out any words.” Fujisaki wrinkled his nose, as if in disgust. “The entire file just sounds like growling. I can’t analyze it.”

“I see. Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter what kind of prayers Komaeda likes to say.” Kirigiri said. “Thank you for trying.”

“How’s Owada-kun?” Naegi asked.

“Togami-kun gave him the week off,” Fujisaki said. “It’s best he did, otherwise we’d probably be getting a lot of excessive force complaints right now.”

Naegi winced. “Ah, I see. If you see him, tell him we’re thinking about him.”

Fujisaki nodded. He turned, and reached for the door –

Which flew open that same second, knocking the small technician to the ground.

“Ah, Kirigiri-san and Naegi-kun!” Ishimaru proclaimed, failing to notice the person at his feet. Though if the door hadn’t knocked down Fujisaki, Ishimaru himself might have, given the way he marched in. “I presume your investigation is proceeding smoothly. The Chief of Police told me that you two wished for my assistance!”

“Yes. When you were guarding the crime scene, did a man named Shinguji speak with you?”

“That he did!” Ishimaru said proudly. “I have included that detail in my report.”

She questioned him further. Shinguji, it turned out, did not ask the questions she had expected. In a standard case, the questions would be about the specific crime that occurred, what the police would do to solve the case and what they already knew. Shinguji did touch on those subjects, but otherwise apparently had ignored them in favour of general forensics and lab procedures. In fact, the more Ishimaru talked, the more it seemed Shinguji had no interest in the crime whatsoever and had just wanted to know whether the lab tests shown on crime shows existed. Odd.

She dismissed Ishimaru, and puzzled over this. Honestly, those actions did fit the man’s personality. It was just frustrating that everyone in this case, except the suspiciously friendly Kamukura, was annoyingly eccentric; contrary to what crime games may suggest, witnesses were usually dumb, not eccentric. Either way, it did place less suspicion on Shinguji.

A couple of minutes later, a haggard Togami re-entered. Obviously, he’d been unsuccessful convincing Yonaga to come in.

“The damn pastor answered the phone. Apparently, he’s the only one there allowed to,” Togami griped. “Kept insisting Yonaga was busy.”

“On the bright side, he probably thinks his plan is working and we suspect her. If we go in person, perhaps we can convince her to allow us to ‘arrest’ her and bring her here,” Kirigiri said.

“It’s worth a shot,” Togami said. “You have to talk to her anyways.”

It was decided. Suddenly, there was a loud _thump_. They looked sideways to see a wide-eyed Naegi, who had shoved his chair away from the table. At first, they didn’t know what had disturbed him. Not until they saw Hope’s Peak’s holy scripture face down on the table from Naegi abruptly throwing it.

“Guys, you need to see this!” Naegi lunged forward and grabbed the scripture. He opened it from the back and began leafing through the pages. Kirigiri and Togami took up positions behind him; he was small enough they could easily look over his head. And what they saw . . .

Togami spoke first. “What in the world . . .?”

Naegi looked up at her. “Kyoko, what does this mean?”

“I don’t know,” she said, and it was the truth. For staring up from the pages at them, in the same black and printed text as the text on the other pages, was a perfect illustration of the crime scene.

Before any of them could figure out how to proceed, Naegi’s phone rang.

“Ah, sorry! Give me a second.” For whatever reason, Naegi found it necessary to scramble out of his seat and hide a corner. She let him be and focused on the image before her. Her gloved finger scratched against the paper, checking for paint.

“This is surreal,” Togami said. “ _How_? I could understand if they had been inspired by this drawing and decided to mimic what they saw, but for them to find a victim that looks exactly like the one in this image. . . There’s no way to determine when this was drawn, is there?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Kirigiri said. “But with this much detail, it would have taken a few days.”

“You said you didn’t think the garden was the murder scene, but there’s also no decomposition noted in the autopsy.”

“Yes.” Her hand tapped against her chin. “A skilled artist could imagine what this scene would look like before seeing it themselves, but with this much detail? This is unprecedented.”

She and Togami exchanged worried looks. This image pointed to much more planning than they had suspected. But _why?_ What was the point of leaving such an obvious clue?

“Um, Kyoko? It’s Soda-kun calling about our car. I think you might want to hear this.”

She took the phone from him. Togami inched forwards, as if to eavesdrop.

“Kirigiri Kyoko speaking. What is it?”

“Uh, hey. Yeah, this is Soda Kazuichi, the guy in charge of fixing your car.”

“Is it repairable?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure, I could fix it. The thing is . . . is that what you want?”

She took a deep breath through her nose. This week was just full of idiots. “Why wouldn’t I want you to repair my car?”

“Well, uh, I was just wondering. Like, you must have had a reason for stuffing the engine full of mud, right?”

She paused. “What’s that?”

“Mud. Like the stuff you get after rain.”

“I know that!” she said. “What are you saying about the engine having mud in it?”

“Yeah, that’s why it ain’t working. I have no idea how you drove it at all, cause the entire engine’s been plugged with mud. I could clean it out and fix it for ya, but I dunno how much damage’s already been done. You might just want to buy a new one.”

“I’ll . . .” For the first time in a long while, Kirigiri was speechless. “Call me back with a quote. I need to discuss this.”

She hung up. She silently handed Naegi his phone back.

“Kirigiri?” Togami looked at her warily. No surprise there. The shock in her system must have been easily visible.

She told them what happened. Naegi didn’t react much, seeing as he already knew. Togami’s eyebrows kept going higher and higher. When she stopped speaking, his eyebrows remained in that high spot, as if their host was waiting for her to announce this was just a big prank.

“This is . . .” For a moment, Togami closed his eyes, as if overwhelmed. “Alright. I suppose I’ll be driving you two back and forth from Hope’s Peak for now on. Understood?”

“You don’t need to do that,” Naegi said. “Kyoko and I take the bus there.”

“You do that because someone sabotaged your means of escape,” Togami pointed out, sounding angry. “Oogami and Asahina filled me in on your little forest adventure as well. I’d also be sending an officer to guard you, if I didn’t know Kirigiri would lose them at the first opportunity.”

“Togami-kun, nothing happened,” Naegi said. “I thought I felt something weird, but it might have been nerves because I thought I was going to be stuck there until someone found me.”

“Driving us there and back is unnecessary,” Kirigiri said. “You are just as busy as us.”

“. . . Very well.” Togami didn’t sound happy, but the three of them had worked together long enough to know you couldn’t tell Kirigiri how to conduct her investigations. “If things like this keep happening, you will report it.”

Naegi closed his hand over his heart. “I swear on my devotion to Father Atua, that I will!”

They glared at him.

“. . . Was that too soon?” Naegi squeaked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> I add the last character tag.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I goofed. The next chapter preview for this chapter was supposed to be "Togami goes with Kirigiri and Naegi to the church." The new character is introduced _next_ chapter. However, I feel bad about getting y'all worked up so...
> 
> Congrats! Two chapters coming out today!  
> (Works out well cause not a lot happens in this one anyways.)

She stirred. The haze of sleep hadn’t quite released her, so her eyes stayed closed. Still, she groped lazily around the bed, her investigative instincts more awake than the rest of her. The fabric was warm, of course, but the spot next to her was empty. An abnormality. Her eyes opened, and she rolled over. Naegi wasn’t in bed. Strange. He enjoyed sleep more than her.

She found him at the kitchen table, sipping on a mug of coffee. He looked up blearily as she sat down across from him. His hair was scruffy and brushed, the skin under his eyes dark and swollen. He had gotten little sleep.

“Are you worrying about the case?” she asked.

“Not particularly,” he said. “I had a rough night. Kept waking up.”

“Drink your coffee,” she said sympathetically. “Breakfast will wake you up.”

She walked over to the stove and slipped off her gloves. It felt odd taking them off; made her scarred skin prickle from the touch of cold air. But she did it anyways because, although he would never dare say it aloud, he thought it was unsanitary for her to cook with her gloves on.

Breakfast was simple. Naegi nibbled away and as she predicted, it woke him. They ate in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional yawn.

“Should I call Togami-kun?” Naegi asked.

She nodded. Although Togami had backed off on acting as their permanent personal taxi, Togami had insisted at least driving them in today. Eventually, she had agreed just to get the argument over with. He would drive them in today – but only today.

Togami arrived twenty minutes later in a police car, honking impatiently as he pulled up, even though they were literally standing next to the car. She and Naegi climbed into the back.

“Anything new?” Naegi asked afterwards as they waited at a stoplight.

“Of course not. I spoke to you last night,” Togami said. “What do you expect to have happened?”

“Just making conversation,” Naegi said casually, brushing off Togami’s remark.

Togami exhaled. “We had a mortician look at the dog. It’s the work of a blade, but we don’t think it’s the same one used to kill Nanami Chiaki.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Kirigiri said. “I don’t think the culprit would still be carrying the murder weapon with them.”

“Did you find anything that can point us towards who killed Chuck?” Naegi asked.

“No.” Togami glanced at the mirror and met Naegi’s eyes. “Do remember where your priorities should lie.”

“I know, but he was a good dog,” Naegi mumbled.

They arrived at Hope’s Peak. She and Naegi stepped out of the idling car, and then looked back when they heard the engine suddenly turn off.

“I will accompany you for now,” Togami said. “I want a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

She appraised him. She knew that look; there wasn’t much hope in convincing him otherwise. It didn’t bother her too much. If she ever needed a _temporary_ replacement for Naegi, Togami (sometimes) was high on her list.

They walked to the front door together. She was about to open it, when it swung open all by itself.

“Nyahahaha! Good morning!” Yonaga cheered. “Atua says today is going to be a wonderful day.”

“You’re Yonaga Angie,” Togami said. He immediately straightened up and put on his ‘I’m in charge’ mask.

“Yep!” Yonaga said. “I didn’t know Makoto and Kyoko were bringing friends.”

“Friends,” Togami scoffed and like usual, he became offended over nothing. He smugly showed her his badge.

“I see,” Yonaga said. Anyone else would have sounded smug or annoyed, but she seemed to be neither.

“Yes, I’m the boss of these two . . . Why are you laughing?”

“It’s funny!” Yonaga said. She hopped forward suddenly, leaning so that she was in Togami’s face. “A mortal acting as the boss. It’s like if I tried to order Atua around!”

Oh? Next to her, Naegi mumbled something like a prayer under his breath. Kirigiri watched Togami’s face slowly grow purple. She might have sympathized with him, but she was a little irritated at that declaration that he was their boss.

She could almost hear Togami’s stiff jaw creak as he spoke. “Regardless, I want you to come to the station with us. We have some questions . . .”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

“You can’t,” Togami repeated dully.

“Nope! I can’t abandon my duties.”

“Didn’t you go into town on the first day Kyoko and I came here?” Naegi pointed out. “This wouldn’t be much different.”

“That’s cause Atua said it was okay.”

Kirigiri gave Togami a look. _See what I’ve been dealing with for the past few days?_

Togami said, “I must insist –”

“Do you have a warrant?” Yonaga asked. With her hands clasped behind her back and still leaning forwards, she tilted her head to one side as if genuinely curious. “You can only make someone go to the station if you have a warrant.”

That . . . that was correct. Honestly, she hadn’t expected Yonaga to know that. Just as she hadn’t expected the other church members to know anything about her and Naegi. Something was off here. She needed to re-evaluate that framing theory she had proposed.

Togami did not press further. He couldn’t. So Yonaga took it upon herself to continue the conversation. “They say I can’t go downtown with you, but it’s okay if you visit today. But I only made two rosaries.”

With that bold announcement, Yonaga reached into the pockets of her jacket and pulled them out. They were beaded necklaces, decorated with alternating black and dark blue stones. At the very center of each rosary hung a gemstone carved into a lightning bolt-like shape, the same one she had seen on the cover of the scripture. She and Togami did not move, but Naegi – of course – took one and let it hang from his fingers.

“This is beautiful,” Naegi said. “Did you make these?”

“Yes. I made it just for you!” Yonaga said. “But Nagito told me I should make one for Kyoko as well.”

Silently, Kirigiri and Togami conferred and mutually confirmed their suspicions. Kirigiri took the offered rosary and stuffed it in her pocket. Naegi also glanced at her, nodding slightly when she sent him a suspicious gaze back.

When Naegi addressed Yonaga though, he looked perfectly happy. “Thank you! You didn’t have to do this for us.”

Yonaga did. “But I did! Okay, you three have a good time now.”

Although the rosaries were suspicious, not wearing them would be even more suspicious. The stones were cold against the bare flesh of her neck and the gemstone sat heavy on her chest. Naegi put his on slowly, as if afraid it would bite.

“Makoto, check out the other scriptures,” she said. “I want to check the confessionals again. Togami-kun, what is your plan?”

“If you two are going to be occupied with simple tasks like those, I’m going to talk to the witnesses. I want a better picture of whom we’re dealing with.”

The three of them split up. She went straight for the confessionals, leaving Naegi as he tired to sneakily shuffle towards the altar where the official scripture was. She closed herself inside one confessional, leaned against the opposing wall, and knocked on it. Hmm. Nothing interesting. She took out a laser scanner and used it on the wall. She checked the other walls and the floor. Also ordinary responses. It seemed her theory was incorrect; no one was hiding behind a secret panel in this confessional and speaking to Yonaga as Atua. She wasn’t detecting any hidden speakers either.

 _So, she is legitimately insane. A defense attorney would have a field day with her,_ she thought as she shoved the device back in her pocket.

She stepped out of the confessional. Togami had wandered off to who-knew-where, but Naegi was present. He was on the chancel, hand flat on the cover of the scripture that belonged to the altar there. And Komaeda was also present, his fingers closed firmly over Naegi’s wrist, keeping it in place.

“Hello, Kirigiri-san,” Komaeda said as she hurried over. “You look upset. Wait, it’s me, isn’t it? You don’t need to worry. I was just letting Naegi-kun know that this book is for my eyes only.”

“Our apologies,” she said. “He’s been curious about what your religion entails ever since you decided to baptize him. This was the only copy we noticed within easy reach.”

“We store the ones for the congregation in another room. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but there isn’t exactly a place to keep them in this room.” Komaeda gestured with his arm to the furniture-bare room. She ignored that, and kept her eyes locked on the hand still pinning Naegi’s wrist. “If you’re curious, I would be delighted to introduce you to our history. And Naegi-kun, too.”

“That would be great,” Naegi said. What else could he say?

Komaeda’s smile was a gradual thing. It moved slowly, slithering onto his face so smoothly it took a second to realize it was there. He didn’t let go of Naegi’s hand. It was difficult to describe the motion, but his hand _unfolded_ somehow. Naegi ripped his arm free, holding it near his chest as if it hurt.

“This way.” Komaeda started walking.

Their footsteps echoed through the hollow building, bringing with it an unyielding feeling of emptiness; this building was so very, very large, and it was only the three of them. Togami wasn’t in sight, nor were any of the other churchgoers. She couldn’t hear their voices either, nor hear any settling of the building or rustling from the weather outside. It was as if the world had frozen in a block of ice, silent to those who observed it.

“There is something I want to talk to you two about,” Komaeda said. “I hate correcting you, Kirigiri-san, when you’re trying so hard, but please don’t call this a religion.”

“Oh? What would you prefer?” she asked, ignoring that little patronizing remark he included.

He glanced over his shoulder. “What we say is the truth. That’s what I would like you to acknowledge.”

“I can’t do that,” she said flatly. “I don’t have faith in your gods.”

“Gods, you say?” Komaeda said, staring straight ahead again. “So, you do know nothing. How disappointing. But, I suppose it’s my duty to teach you and make you understand.”

“What about me?” Naegi asked warily. “Are you going to try and teach me, too?”

Komaeda laughed.

“That job’s not mine,” the priest said, dismissing Naegi with a flick of his wrist. Kirigiri leaned back and mouthed the word ‘ _Lucky’_ to her partner.

Komaeda took an iron key out of his pocket and opened a room for them. What they saw was a small room with rounded walls. A shelf rested against one wall, and several copies of Hope’s Peak scripture rested on their side. There was a small table in the center of the room, small enough that she and Naegi would either have to sit across from each other or on the same chair.

Hm. Tempting.

She rolled her sleeves up. “Let’s get to work.”

The scriptures’ covers all looked the same as the one she had taken. She and Naegi grabbed a stack each, and then sat at the table. She would have started searching through them, started looking for that damming picture of the crime scene, but there was one little problem.

“Is there something else you wanted to say?” she asked Komaeda.

“Forgive me for doubting you, but I don’t think either of you can actually read the text,” he said. “I thought I’d stay here in case you needed an interpreter.”

Try as they may, they couldn’t persuade him otherwise and that was _very_ suspicious. She wondered if Komaeda had already hidden the implicating scriptures, although that raised the important question of why would only _some_ hold that illustration.

With Komaeda present, this was taking longer than she would have liked. They couldn’t jump to the back pages immediately because she didn’t want him to know what they were looking for. So, they put on a show of leafing through the pages, forcing themselves not to react when they reached the last pages without encountering that illustration.

“Kyoko?”

She looked up. “Yes?”

Naegi was silent for a moment. “Uh, did you want something?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, didn’t you . . .?” He trailed off. “Never mind.”

They returned to their browsing. Naegi squirmed in his seat. She was in the middle of flipping a page when something knocked hard against her shin. Naegi was slyly peering at her over his scripture . . . had he just . . .? Footsie? Here? While they were on a case and in front of one of the main suspects?

“Not here,” she said.

Naegi’s smile faded. “But you started . . . Uh, sorry.”

He timidly returned to his copy. Good. He should know better. She wasn’t sure what had encouraged him to lapse into that sudden bout of immaturity.

That should have been the end of it, but a couple of minutes later, Naegi jerked and rocked the table. He was looking down at his lap and as far as she could tell, he was brushing something off. He kept squirming after. She could ignore it for a bit, but he couldn’t sit still for more than ten seconds without having to shift his position.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m –”

He yelped and jumped out of his seat so violently, it nearly fell. She caught a glimpse of red cheeks and then Naegi was shoving his way out of the room.

Her chair screeched against the ground. “Makoto!”

He was right outside, breathing heavily, staring down again. His hands were open and raised, as if to slap a spider.

“Makoto, what’s wrong?”

“I . . . Sorry. I just . . . I thought . . . Uh, I think they have mice in this place or something.” He gave her an unsteady smile.

She walked around him, scanning for anything unusual. “Mice?”

“Yeah.” He laughed awkwardly. “One of them must have gotten near me and . . . Uh, Kyoko, were you kicking me in there?”

“No.”

His expression shifted –

“Is everything okay?” Komaeda asked. The door clicked shut behind him. “You left awfully quickly.”

“Uh, yeah, everything’s fine. Say, Komaeda-kun, do you have a rodent problem in here?”

“. . . Rodents? What do you mean by _rodents_?” Komaeda repeated. Kirigiri strained her ears. Something had crawled into his voice there. Something almost like a growl, but she couldn’t place it.

“I think I felt a mouse climbing on me,” Naegi said, looking mildly uncomfortable at the thought.

“Mice? . . . Oh, you were speaking about mice! There could be some around, but there isn’t much for them to eat. Not that I would have expected you to know that! Speaking of food, my flock and I were about to have lunch. You three are welcome to join us.”

“There you are!” Togami announced loudly, saving the two of them from answering Komaeda’s request. “Komaeda, take me to your computer.”

“We don’t have one,” Komaeda answered.

Togami crossed his arms. “This isn’t a request. I have a warrant to seize your electronic communications devices.”

“You must have misheard me. We don’t have any.” With a heavy, almost wistful sigh, Komaeda turned away from them. “We have no need for such limited things. There is a landline, but I believe you would have to contact the phone company for the records.”

Poor Togami looked like a cat who had watched a fish slip out from between its paws.

“My offer for lunch still stands,” Komaeda said.

Togami rubbed his brow. “Fine. We accept.”

Kirigiri looked at him sharply. Togami’s eyes moved a little, meeting hers for a split second. Ah. Togami either wanted an interrogation, or he was buying time for something else. She trusted the three of them to be able to protect themselves, but Naegi was looking between them nervously.

Komaeda waved them forward. “Right this way.”

The others were already present. Enoshima and Kamukura sat together, Enoshima flirtatiously stroking Kamukura’s cheek. The two looked up when the door opened and although Enoshima didn’t look like she cared if she had an audience, Kamukura pulled back into a more neutral position. Shinguji sat silently, one hand in his lap, the other holding a cup of tea to his . . . mask. Yonaga and Ikusaba weren’t in sight, but they could hear voices floating in through an open door that must have led to the kitchen.

“Sit,” Komaeda said. “I’ll get everyone food this time.”

Without a word, she and Togami forced Naegi into the seat between them. Togami leaned back in his chair and looked at each person present in turn, evaluating their threat. Enoshima, Kirigiri noticed, was making a conscious effort to hold Togami’s gaze as long as possible.

“Junko-chan! H-here you go!” Ikusaba scurried out of the kitchen and handed a plate each to Enoshima and Kamukura. Enoshima just stuck her fork in without a word. The lack of thanks from her sister didn’t seem to bother her, and Ikusaba disappeared back into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Yonaga was giving a plate to Shinguji before settling down with her own.

Komaeda reappeared, Ikusaba following him with enough plates for all of them. To Kirigiri’s great displeasure, Komaeda chose the seat next to her. Naegi didn’t like it either, if the way he jammed his fork into his food was anything to go by. Yet, despite his annoyance, Naegi still managed to thank Ikusaba.

Komaeda seemed to find that curious, for he very unwelcomely decided to speak. “Ikusaba doesn’t usually serve us, despite her inferior status. However, these are special circumstances, so we had to change some things around.”

Naegi scowled. “Inferior status. How do you get that?”

“It’s nothing personal,” Komaeda said. “We aren’t born equal. Some are born special.”

That was a trigger. She reached over and grabbed Naegi’s arm before he could launch into a rant. As much as he appreciated his optimistic attitude and his willingness to defend his beliefs, this was not the time.

“This is an impressive place,” Togami said. “How did you get it built?”

“With hard work and love!” Komaeda said, and his short laugh let them know he knew his answer was corny. And untrue.

“It must have cost a fortune,” Togami prompted.

“We manage our finances very carefully,” Komaeda answered.

Togami clenched his jaw.

“So, uh, how did you all come together?” Naegi asked in a transparent attempt to cover for Togami.

“The two of us grew up under this sect,” Enoshima said, pointing to her and Komaeda. “A while ago, I decided to pry Mukuro away from our father’s cold, dead hands . . . I’m kidding.”

“Oh,” Naegi said, wiping sweat off his brow.

“I’ve been here as long as I remember, so I guess it’s about the same for me,” Kamukura said. “Nothing spectacular.”

“I was touring the world, and this church opened its doors to me,” Shinguji said.

“Atua brought me here!” Yonaga answered.

Well, that was boring. Almost as boring as the food she was looking at. It was a whitefish on a bed of leafy green vegetables. There might have been some translucent sauce, but otherwise, the fish had been served as is.

“Is this the only selection?” Togami demanded. When Komaeda said yes, Togami smugly tipped his chin up and declared, “I’m allergic to fish. No worries, I’ll have another officer drop off lunch for me.”

He wasn’t allergic, of course. Togami was refraining in case someone had tampered with the food. Komaeda apologized but otherwise, didn’t care. He started eating himself and when she saw that, she concluded it was safe. She took a bite. Fishy. Bland.

“Komaeda-kun –  I know you don’t like me using this word – but I was wondering what religion your church follows,” Naegi asked.

Komaeda’s fork tapped rhythmically against his plate as he considered Naegi’s question. “There’s no easy answer. We don’t have a fancy name. We are simply family. Although not everyone you see here can claim that honour. There are those of us in the family, and then those below who serve us in exchange for our mercy.”

“Mercy from what?”

“From the end,” Komaeda said.

Oh, look. An apocalyptic prophecy. How original.

“That sounds bad,” Naegi said diplomatically. “My second question was why you decided to build your church here.”

Komaeda smirked. “Geography.”

“Huh?”

“When we were surveying locations, we . . . received a sign,” Komaeda said. “We knew this is where we should base ourselves, and it’s been quite fruitful.”

“In what, recruitment?” Togami asked skeptically. “None of my officers have seen any of your members advertise. We barely knew you existed before this.”

Komaeda _and_ Enoshima laughed.

“We don’t recruit. We don’t need to seek out new members,” Komaeda said with a crooked smile. “If they interest the Elders, they’ll find us. Just as you did, they always come to us.”

It felt like something had been sucked out of her stomach.

“We are here to investigate a _murder_ ,” Kirigiri reminded him. She said the next part quickly, hotly, because she had seen Komaeda’s smirk. “None of us have any interest in joining your church.”

The two of them, her and Komaeda, were the focus of attention. Kamukura had frozen with his fork halfway to his mouth while Enoshima giggled next to him. Shinguji was watching them like he was watching an interesting documentary. Togami was glancing at Naegi, likely remembering what she had said about the baptism, and Kirigiri could see the police chief’s form had swelled with the expectation of a fight.

“I never expected convincing you to be easy,” Komaeda said to her. “You were raised with such a narrow, closeminded worldview. You will understand someday, Kirigiri-san, but you don’t need to worry about that. Your performance has been excellent. I see no reason not to bestow our mercy upon you.”

Closeminded? _Her_? That . . . So much for Hope’s Peak having done their research. Anyone who looked at the cases she had solved and the conclusions she had wrung from them, would know that she was far from closeminded. She suddenly became aware of Naegi rubbing her leg, trying to soothe her. She forced herself to take a deep breath; the cold air seemed to chafe against her throat.

“Is that so?” Togami said lowly. Dangerously. That last bit was something she knew only she could hear.

“It’s not a threat,” Komaeda said simply. “It’s the truth.”

“Forcing your worldview down my detectives’ throats can still be classified as a threat.” Togami’s fist clenched against the table.

“Oh? Are you going to arrest me?” Komaeda asked.

Oh. Next to her, Naegi cringed. If there was one unwritten rule in the department (other than don’t mess with Kirigiri’s cases), it was that you never directly challenged Togami, unless you were prepared for him to grab that challenge by the horns. That was what was happening now. A vicious, vengeance-seeking sneer flashed onto Togami’s face, and he slowly began to rise –

Halfway up, he froze.

He was silent. His pupils were round like his glasses. He didn’t respond when Kirigiri prodded him. It wasn’t until the second time she said his name that he startled, and his muscles unlocked. Togami lowered himself back into his chair, not taking his eyes off Komaeda.

“. . . Don’t play games like that,” Togami said. “That is your last and only warning.”

Had Togami just back down?

Shortly after, her phone vibrated with a text.

 _What just happened?_ Naegi had asked her.

She didn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: The new character is actually introduced.


	11. Chapter 11

“Togami-kun, are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Togami snapped that out too harshly.

“You were quiet in there,” Naegi said carefully. “Not that you talk all the time or anything, but you have a . . . a loud presence usually.”

Togami didn’t say much of anything, continuing to gaze straight ahead at the forest in front of them.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been in the field,” Togami said suddenly. “I think I forgot what it was like to deal with suspects.”

She watched him carefully. This sounded like a random reflection, but Togami didn’t indulge in random reflections.

“What do you think of them?” Togami asked.

“I thought I was very clear,” Kirigiri said. “I don’t like any of them. Komaeda and Enoshima are arrogant, Kamukura is suspicious, and the rest are irritating.”

Togami stared at her. She had the distinct feeling he was trying to drill a hole through her head and dissect her brain.

“That’s it?” he said quietly.

“I could certainly elaborate, but the general idea would be the same.”

Togami’s head swung around. “What about you, Naegi?”

“Uh, Komaeda’s a jerk,” Naegi said, idly scuffing the dirt with his shoe. “Enoshima’s a bit overwhelming. Shinguji is odd, but he doesn’t seem like a terrible person. I like the others.”

She saw Togami’s cheeks suck in a little.

“Togami-kun, what is the answer you’re looking for?” she asked. “If you give us a hint, we may be able to answer more to your liking.”

“There’s no need. If you didn’t notice yourselves, then my observation is misplaced.” Togami sounded confident when he said that, but to Kirigiri’s trained eye, he didn’t look so. “Naegi, get the metal detector.”

Naegi scampered off, not even hesitating. They watched him go around the stone garden wall and pass by the side of the church on his way to Togami’s car. She began to turn, and ended up turning quicker then she planned when Togami unexpectedly grabbed her arm.

“Naegi mentioned something about a possible suitor in there.” Togami jerked his head at the church.

“Yes, Komaeda inquired about my dating status.” Just remembering that made her want to shudder.

Togami’s arm fell away from her and crossed over his chest. One finger tapped on the opposite elbow.

“Kirigiri . . . be careful.”

She blinked. Hesitated because the advice had come out of nowhere. That hesitation was all Togami needed to move on, and he did so physically as well. He strode towards the distant form of Naegi, as if he were impatient to get to work. Her eyes burned into his back, and she knew he felt it, but he did not turn around.

Togami did not say things randomly. Taking what he had said before that fateful statement as evidence, then his reason for making that statement became obvious.

_You saw something there. Something dangerous. And it had something to do with Komaeda._

Naegi automatically handed the metal detector over. She let Togami keep it, so she could keep an eye on their surroundings. The three of them walked into the woods, the detector beeping in time with their steps.

“How was lunch?” Togami asked. He seemed to have recovered from whatever strangeness had consumed him before, because he was smirking. She knew why, too. He’d forced Ishimaru to deliver what he deemed a ‘proper lunch’ while Naegi and Kirigiri had been in the middle of theirs.

“It wasn’t the worst thing I had, but I wouldn’t want to eat it again,” she answered.

“Yeah.” Naegi swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, as if trying to drown out the memory of the taste. “They need a new pot because there was a definite metal taste.”

“I didn’t taste that.”

Naegi sighed. “Guess who got the bottom of the pot, then.”

“Did you have any luck locating other pictures of the crime scene?” Togami asked.

“No. That copy of the scripture you saw seemed to be the only one with that image,” she answered. “Although Komaeda refused to let us look at his personal copy.”

Both Togami and Naegi knew exactly what she was saying: one way or another, Komaeda’s version _would_ end up in her hands.

“I see. Well, it’s not all bad news,” Togami said. “With that one copy, I was able to obtain a few warrants. One was for the apparently non-existent electronic devices, one for non-existent security cameras, and one to examine their finances. It’s . . . they do seem to receive quite a few donations, but there is no way it could fund the construction of this place. I’ll give that report to you later.”

The trees became thicker the further they walked into the forest. She glanced upwards, and saw that the sky was no longer visible. The metal detector continued its steady beeping, echoing through the bare woods.

“We would cover more ground if we split up,” she pointed out.

She read reluctance in Naegi. Togami seemed to be thinking something similar, but per usual, it was much harder to tell.

“Take Naegi with you,” Togami said with feigned nonchalance. “His eyes aren’t as sharp.”

She did. They left Togami to his hunt, and set off on one of their own.

“Do you really think you could find something buried without a metal detector?” Naegi asked.

“It is unlikely,” she admitted, “but I’m hoping we may find something else.”

“Oh.” He shuffled after her, hands stuffed in his pockets. He glanced in the direction they had left Togami.

“This is probably more than we alone can handle,” she said. “We need the entire department to conduct a proper search.”

“We could make it like a party!” Naegi said. “Someone could set up a barbeque in the garden, and we could all have burgers . . .”

She smirked. “Look who’s making jokes at crime scenes now.”

“Come on, everyone does it,” Naegi said. “There’s only so many dead bodies you can see before you have to lighten the mood.”

“Strange. I remember someone saying it was rude not to respect the dead.”

“I was young and naïve then!”

She tossed her hair, her equivalent of a shrug and walk away. Naegi padded after her, hovering just behind her shoulder.

Kirigiri said, “You’re good at pinpointing emotion. When Togami-kun looked like he was about to arrest him, what did you see in Komaeda?”

“Nothing really. He didn’t seem to care much. Though I guess that would be unusual.”

“Maybe not. It fits with an arrogant personality. I’m more –”

“Uh, Kyoko, what’s that?”

Naegi pointed at the ground ahead of her. She looked. Squinted. Someone, it seemed, had spilled white powder on the ground. . . No, that wasn’t it. There was a tiny trough cutting through the woods, and someone had filled it with white powder. She crouched nearby, examining it. The vegetation touching the powder was brown and dehydrated.

“It might be poisonous!” Naegi said quickly.

“I wasn’t planning to taste it,” she said back defiantly . . . while moving her finger away from the powder. “Look at the plants around it. They’ve been drained of water.”

Naegi bent over partway, and his hands rested on his knees. “They’re dehydrated. So, is that salt?”

She scooped up a little and put it in a plastic bag. “That’s my current theory. Come.”

She stepped over the white line, and Naegi waved his hands to catch her attention.

“Should we be investigating this? It doesn’t really have to do with our investigation.”

“We don’t know that yet,” she retorted. “Don’t forget: it isn’t only the murder we’re here for.”

They trudged deeper into the woods. Funnily, the canopy seemed to thin here, and occasional flecks of sunlight found their way to the moss-covered ground. Naegi kept looking from side to side, trying to help, but not knowing what he should be looking for. That was fair. She wasn’t sure either what she was hoping to find. Finally, her watch beeped. She glanced at Naegi and wordlessly, the two of them turned around. It was time to rendezvous with Togami. Their steps crunched . . .

No. Something was wrong.

She threw her arm out, stopping Naegi cold. The third set of footsteps didn’t stop so fast.

She whipped around. “Who’s there?”

The forest was silent.

“I am a detective with the local police department. I have the authority –”

A low chuckle filled the air around them.

“For one such as yourself to detect my presence. . . You, too, must possess the knowledge of the Forbidden Realm.”

“The what?” Naegi said.

“Humph. Then you are still ignorant. That is no surprise. If you truly understood the secrets of the universe, then you would be on your knees begging me for mercy.”

A hand appeared. It curled around the trunk of a tree, one skeletal finger at a time. Like Shinguji, bandages covered the hand, completely hiding the skin underneath.

“Kehehe . . . I see how you tremble. That fear, it is the fear of one confronted with something they cannot hope to understand. Behold, mortals, you face the bane of innocence! The hunter of shadows! The partner of the Four Dark Devas of Destruction! It is I, the Supreme Sorcerer of Darkness!”

The hand snapped closed, and turned slowly, as if it had caught a bug and was slowly crushing it. More of the arm appeared, stopping at the elbow where they caught the sleeved of a black jacket with white cuffs.

“Why does the hunter of shadows feel the need to hide from two ‘mortals?’” Kirigiri demanded.

“Foolish human! It is not for my sake that I conceal myself within the darkness. The very sight of my true self may paralyse your bodies with terror. My very blood runs thick with a poisonous curse. Just one drop could soil the ground of an entire country!”

“I’ll try to refrain from bleeding you,” she said dryly.

“To face such an overwhelming power with such confidence. . . I have misread you. Perhaps we can be of use to each other.” A leg appeared. It wore tall black boot with straps near the top that crossed in an ‘X.’ “Mortals! Listen well. The dark sorcerer of this world has deemed it fit to unveil his earthly form. Now, prepare yourselves for calamity. It is I, THE FORBIDDEN ONE!”

Another arm appeared, and then an entire body came crashing towards them. In a flash, she saw black clothes and black hair, stripes of silver in that hair and multicoloured eyes. Then laughing, thunderous cackling that rose towards the sky as the man raised his arms and laughed. He laughed and laughed and Kirigiri checked her watch.

Gradually, the laughter fizzled out. The man faced them smugly. A purple scarf fit over his jaw, though she could still spy the very tip of his smirk. His other arm, she noticed, had no bandages. Instead, he wore two silver rings, each with a rune encrusted upon it, although she could not tell what.

“Fuhahahaha! Now, you surely understand the true meaning of fear. Do not stare too long! The power of my eye may wither your soul.”

“. . . Thanks for the warning,” Naegi said.

“Who are you?” Kirigiri demanded.

“Could it be? Do you ask for the forbidden name? The word which no living being must speak? Do you know not which you ask? That in the hands of a less principled being, you would invite insanity upon the world!?”

“No, she wasn’t asking about your name!” Naegi said quickly. “Just who . . . uh, what are you?”

Tanaka laughed hysterically again. “The human asks good questions. I am the dark sorcerer: TANAKA THE FORBIDDEN ONE!”

And she thought dealing with Hagakure was a pain.

Naegi said, “Okay. Do you live around here?”

“Indeed, my lair lies within this space.” Tanaka pulled his scarf up to his noise.

Kirigiri spoke up. “You live around here? Then you must know the area well.”

“But of course!” Tanaka exclaimed. “To someone who had ventured to the very corners of this planet, navigating this space is child’s play.”

“Then you must know of your neighbour, Hope’s Peak.”

A sharp hiss escaped from between his teeth. “Do not speak of them!”

She smirked. “So, you do know them.”

Tanaka grunted and turned to the side. “As the true master of this world, I know all its foes. Those creatures are the spawn of the most vile of beings. Even the innocent among them has been poisoned by their corruption.”

Why were they dealing with this? Even if Tanaka could say anything useful, he would be useless in court. While she speculated Yonaga was insane, Tanaka _was_ insane.

“You don’t like them,” Naegi said. “Why not? Did they do something to you?”

“Their very existence is an insult,” Tanaka insisted. “They should return to the abyss that birthed them. You, as the great power I am, I beseech you: beware! Do not give in to their temptation. You must advert your eyes, lest you be consumed.”

“Okay, you think they’re bad people,” Naegi said, “but have you _seen_ them do anything wrong.”

“I do not go there unless absolutely necessary,” Tanaka said. “My magic circles protect my realm, but the eyes of the dreaming are many. Those from the Forbidden Realm know of my great power and deeds. Should I linger too long outside this protection, I would surely be dragged to hell, destined to be torn apart by hell beasts!”

“That sounds unpleasant,” Naegi remarked. “We’re actually investigating a body that appeared in the church’s garden. Does the name Nanami Chiaki ring a bell?”

“There are many mortal souls on this planet,” Tanaka said, “many of whom bear the moniker you present me.”

“Yeah, sure. Hold on a sec.” Naegi turned to her. “Kyoko, can you give me the picture of Nanami?”

She handed it over to him, also whispering, “How are you understanding him?”

“Honestly, I’m guessing most of it,” Naegi whispered back.

He held out the picture to Tanaka. Tanaka shuffled towards him. That bandaged hand rose and the fingers waggled, looking down upon Naegi’s hand like a vulture deciding whether its prey had died yet. Quickly, that hand snapped down, tearing the picture from Naegi’s hand. Tanaka snatched the picture close to his chest, then peeked at the top like they had handed him a secret message.

“This is one of them?” Tanaka said, sounding confused.

“No, that’s a picture of what the victim looked like,” Naegi said. “If you know anything, it would really help.”

The other hand rose. It grabbed the bottom of the picture and almost seemed to be cradling it.

“This one has been slain,” Tanaka murmured. He shook his head sharply and then handed the picture back. “I cannot help you.”

“That’s a shame,” Naegi said. “I have a couple of other questions. Did you see anything unusual on Friday?”

Tanaka shook his head.

“What about between the hours of ten in the evening and six the next morning. Did you see or hear anything at all? Even if you don’t think it was unusual, did _anything_ happen?”

Naegi didn’t see it. He wasn’t trained to. But she did. She saw the sudden tensing in the muscle, the swallow that froze mid-way.

“No,” Tanaka lied.

Naegi was about to say something, probably thank you, but she cut in. “Are you aware it’s a crime to lie to the authorities? The penalties for that crime are quite severe, and we _will_ discover any lies you tell us.”

“. . . Are you threatening me?” For a moment, Tanaka seemed to be a regular person. Then she _saw_ him swell up with insanity, and the next time he spoke, it was in a booming voice. “What foolish mortal would dare challenge me? Be thankful you are beneath my notice, or my dark wrath would have scattered your soul upon the seven winds!”

“Don’t think of it as a threat,” she started. “It’s – ”

“A plead for mercy from one of my foes? How humorous! Yes, bow before the feet of the wonderous TANAKA THE FORBIDDEN ONE!”

“We’re not your enemies!” Naegi cried out, jabbing her hard in the side to tell her to stay quiet. “We just want to figure out who murdered Nanami Chiaki.”

“And yet you bear the cross of my eternal foes!” Tanaka shouted, pointing straight at the rosary tied around Naegi’s neck. “Enough! I have conveyed too much of the truth today. Any more and the shock could leave you both a babbling husk.”

“Hold on, we’re not done with you!” Kirigiri said. She marched forward as Tanaka ignored her and leapt behind the tree he had been hiding behind. His scarf swirled after him in a ribbon of purple that slapped her in the face and she pushed aside –

She stared. She looked left, then right.

“Tanaka-kun, I . . .” Naegi came running up. “Oh. Where’d he go?”

“I suppose he does know these woods well,” she said. “He was lying. He knows something.”

“I figured that out when you went after him,” Naegi said. “Hey, I was actually going to ask Togami-kun if we could conduct a wellness check on Tanaka. He doesn’t seem all there.”

She scoffed. “Detectives don’t conduct wellness checks.”

A small smile touched his lips. “It might get us into his house.”

“. . . We will ask once we see Togami-kun,” she announced.

“Good. I do think we need to talk to Tanaka again.” Naegi frowned, starting off into the distance. “I didn’t understand a lot of what he said, but he _hates_ that church. There’s got to be a reason for it.”

“Maybe. Just don’t expect it to be a sane one.”

They met Togami back at the garden. Apart from the metal detector, he was empty handed. She wondered how hard he searched though, considering he hadn’t broken a sweat and his clothes were still neat. They spoke briefly, making sure both sides were caught up, Togami rolling his eyes when Naegi inquired about the wellness check. As promised, Togami also led them back to the car so he could give Kirigiri the financial records.

“As you can clearly see, even if they received these same donations monthly, it’s highly doubtful they could raise a church on those funds,” Togami said.

“Yes,” Kirigiri said as she scanned through the names. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this church cost over a million. . . What’s this?”

She tilted the paper towards Naegi. His brow furrowed as he read down the names, until he found the one that had caught her attention.

“That can’t be right,” he mumbled.

“We’ll find out soon.” She tucked the report away. “Looks like we’re going on a field trip.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri and Naegi confront one of the donors.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all guessed wrong.

It was a quiet, peaceful neighbourhood. The homes were not overly fancy, but they were clean, and the paint wasn’t chipping. Cars lounged in the driveways; if Kirigiri and Naegi had brought their own car, they would have had to park it on the side of the road. As it was, it had been a vigorous walk from the bus stop to their destination. She was okay, other than breathing a little heavily. Naegi, with his shorter legs and worse stamina, was panting.

She walked up the front steps to the door. Her knuckles rapped against it once, twice. She stepped back and waited for it to open.

And open, it did. A blonde woman with a light purple sweater vest peeked out at them, looking confused. In an instant however, that confusion turned to delight.

“Kirigiri-san! Naegi-kun!”

Kirigiri had never enjoyed hugs that much, not even from Naegi. Both women knew this, but Kirigiri also knew that Akamatsu Kaede could never resist the urge. Akamatsu was conscious enough to keep the hug brief though, more like a fleeting touch, before greeting Naegi. Naegi got the full hug, which was just as he wanted it.

“I totally forgot! Shuichi mentioned this morning that you would be dropping by. Shuichi!” Akamatsu ran back into the house. “They’re here . . . Oh, you two don’t have to wait outside. Come in!”

As she and Naegi walked into the house, a man with short, black hair came stumbling down the hall. He was hurriedly fitting a black cap onto his head. Honestly, she didn’t understand Saihara Shuichi’s obsession with the color black.

“Kirigiri-san! Sorry, I was finishing up the dishes.” He extended his hand.

She shook it. “Saihara-kun. I’m glad you had time for us.”

Akamatsu laughed. “We always have time for friends! Well, as long as Shuichi isn’t on a big case.”

Saihara nodded at Naegi. “Good to see you again.”

“May we sit down?” Kirigiri asked. “This isn’t going to be a light conversation.”

She watched as the other couple looked at each other, not seeing any apprehension or dawning realization – Akamatsu seemed baffled when she agreed. Kirigiri and Naegi followed them into a small living room with leather furniture. Two couches sat across from each other, divided by a coffee table, and each couple claimed one for their own.

“Naegi-kun, do you want anything to drink?” Saihara asked. “Uh, I don’t mean anything by it, but you look winded. Did you two . . . _walk_?”

“Our car is being repaired at the moment, so yes.”

“Oh? What happened to it?” Akamatsu asked.

“A problem with the engine,” Kirigiri answered promptly.

“I can always drive you to the bus stop later,” Saihara said. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

She braced herself. This really was going to be an unfortunate conversation. She couldn’t go easy on him; she needed to treat Saihara as she would any other. She could obviously do that, she _knew_ that, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t sting. Like her, Saihara had begun training as a detective at an early age. Since they were in the same country, it was only natural that they would eventually hear of each other and meet in person. Saihara was more than a fellow detective; he was her first friend.

And now, he was a person of interest.

She was about to speak, about to clamp her metaphorical jaws shut straight on the jugular, but Naegi suddenly grabbed her knee, making her hesitate just long enough for him to speak first.

“Akamatsu-san? I think you might want to step out of the room.”

Akamatsu was taken aback for a second. “Oh! Oh, of course! This is confidential detective stuff, isn’t it?”

“There’s no reason for you to leave,” Kirigiri said as Akamatsu started to stand. She ignored Naegi’s protest. “It’s better if you stay.”

“Then it’s not detective business?” Akamatsu said. She was watching Naegi, who wasn’t pleased with this turn of events.

“It is,” Kirigiri said. “The problem is the case involves you two.”

They still didn’t seem to know what she was talking about. Neither of the two were particularly talented at hiding their emotions, so this was a good sign.

“No one’s trying to kill us, right?” Akamatsu laughed nervously.

“I would have told you on the phone if that was the case.” Kirigiri leaned forward, hands on her knees for support. “This has to do with your affiliation with Hope’s Peak.”

Ah, now they understood. Saihara’s entire body had reacted, coiling in on itself as if to hide. Akamatsu was the opposite. She grew stiffer and taller instead, the mark of one who’s fight-or-flight arrow had skewed towards fight.

“Kaede, I want you to leave the room,” Saihara said quietly.

She turned sharply. “But you -!”

“It’s fine. I’ll handle it.”

Akamatsu chewed on her bottom lip. To Kirigiri’s surprise, the strong-willed woman listened. Akamatsu stood and walked out of the room without looking at any of them. Saihara stood up afterwards, and shut the door behind her. When Saihara returned to his seat, it was with the air of a defendant who had taken the witness stand, and just realized what a huge mistake he had made.

“She doesn’t know?” Naegi asked.

“She knows enough. For her sake, I don’t want her to learn anything more than she has,” Saihara said.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” Kirigiri said. “We’re investigating a body found on the church’s grounds. You have been making monthly donations to Hope’s Peak. Explain.”

“I know how this looks, but we’re not working with them,” Saihara said. “Even if we wanted to, I don’t think they believe we’re _special_ enough to join.”

“Then why are you paying them . . .? No, let’s start from the beginning. How do you know them?”

Saihara’s entire body sagged with his sigh. “You said you’ve been investigating Hope’s Peak. In that case . . . have you met someone named Yonaga Angie?”

“We have, actually,” Kirigiri said. She raised an eyebrow. “Does this have to do with the murder attempt on her?”

“Kind of. It’s how it began,” Saihara said. “From what I understand, Yonaga showed up one day _miles_ from her island, claiming to have been reborn after being murdered by her tribe. Normally, because the island was independently owned by her people, that murder would have been out of the other country’s jurisdiction. They decided to send an envoy over anyways, just to confirm Yonaga had belonged to that island. The envoys arrived at the island and . . . everyone they found was dead.”

“Dead? They were just . . . dead?” Naegi repeated.

“Yes. Except for Yonaga, every single member of that tribe was dead, and the circumstances were suspicious enough that they decided to bring detectives from nearby countries to investigate. I was one of the people contacted.”

“There’s a problem with your story,” Kirigiri said. “If they were looking at hiring foreign detectives, I will assume they made their choices based on their reputations. In that case, why would they contact you and not me?”

“Kyoko!” Naegi groaned.

“It’s fine. I know she’s a better detective than me,” Saihara admitted. “They actually did ask you, Kirigiri-san, but you turned them down.”

“What? I don’t remember this,” she said. “Why would I turn down a case like this?”

“To be fair, I don’t think you ever knew what the circumstances were,” Saihara said. “I heard that they only got a few words out before you told them to stop bothering you and hung up. You were preoccupied at the time. . .”

“Really?” This was getting more and more unbelievable. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

“You were preoccupied with a _really_ important case,” he insisted.

Next to her, Naegi squirmed. “Uh, Kyoko, I don’t think he’s lying . . .”

But she wasn’t sold. “What case would be so important that I refused to listen to them?”

“. . . You were looking for your father.”

Oh. An icy feeling gnawed at the lining of her stomach. There was a moment where it felt like a flame ignited inside her to combat the cold, but it blew out a second later.

“I’m sorry,” Saihara said, “but that is when it happened.”

She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “So be it. Let’s hear the rest of the story.”

“We were brought to the island and began looking into the deaths. I was assigned to investigate our primary suspect: Yonaga Angie herself. During that time, she. . . she met some people.”

“Hope’s Peak,” Kirigiri said. “That’s where you’re going with this.”

“Right as usual, Kirigiri-san.” He gave her a shaky smile. “The way those people acted struck me as off, so I dug deeper and . . . I dug too deep.”

Naegi was nodding along, like this was all par for the course. Kirigiri, on the other hand, understood the explanation he was skirting around.

“You’re giving them _protection money_ ,” she said with disbelief.

Saihara looked as though he had expected her reaction. His clenched fists trembled. “It’s not even that. They don’t need money. They just want the acknowledgement of our submission.”

“Kyoko . . .” Naegi looked at her. She could see him turning the information over in his head, trying to figure out what this meant for them.

Saihara spoke. “It . . . You don’t understand. The reason this is news to you isn’t because you were busy with your father before; it’s because everyone involved decided it was in the world’s interest to suppress everything about the case. I was actually one of the lucky detectives; so many incidences happened during that investigation; so many people were never the same. . . That case was cursed from the start, and I was one of the fools who took the bait.”

“In other words, whomever was responsible for the massacre decided to intimidate the rest of you into silence,” Kirigiri said. “I must say, I’m disappointed in you, Saihara-kun. I thought you were a detective who wouldn’t give into _blackmail_.”

“I figured you would react this way. Kirigiri-san, you don’t understand what I found. What I _saw_. I’m not as brave as you, I know that. But if you understood, I think you would understand why I’m doing this.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she said curtly. “What matters is your reason for paying. I know there’s something rotten at Hope’s Peak, and –”

“No.”

“. . . Pardon?”

“I know what you’re asking,” Saihara told her, “and I can’t help you. I’ve only told you this much because we’re friends, but I’m not telling you anything else. I can’t.”

She didn’t know what to say. Saihara was a detective following in her footsteps. How could he not . . .? How dare he? Detectives were meant to strive for the truth, not hide under their beds because a culprit waved a gun in their face.

“Kaede. . .” Saihara whispered. “If they come after me, they’ll go after her next. I can’t do that to her. I _won’t_. You’d do the same if it was Naegi-kun on the line. I’m sorry, but this is all I can do for you and. . . You _are_ my friend, Kirigiri-san. That’s why I _won’t_ tell you anything more.”

How dare he?

Naegi reacted quickly, clamping onto her shoulder, even though his strength wasn’t alone enough to hold her. Not that she was moving. Her body had locked into place, muscles so tense she couldn’t move them. Saihara read her wrath and scooted away. But he remained sitting; he still looked her in the eye.

“I see. We’ll be on our way, then,” she somehow managed to force out. She stood so quickly she dragged Naegi up with her. Naegi tried to hold his ground, tried to say something to salvage the situation, but that was because he didn’t understand there was nothing to salvage. She yanked him along so that whatever he tried to say turned into a squeak.

Akamatsu was hovering by the front door, the picture of nerves and anxiety. She whipped around when she heard them coming, but faltered after looking at Kirigiri’s face. No words were exchanged as Kirigiri and Naegi prepared to leave; Naegi was avoiding Akamatsu’s eyes.

They opened the front door. They stepped outside. Kirigiri led Naegi down the front steps and down the street.

“Guys, wait a second!”

Akamatsu had one foot inside as she waved at them. Kirigiri, for old time’s sake, paused and turned around.

Slowly, Akamatsu walked down the front steps. “I know I’m not a detective like you three, and I don’t know anything about the case you’re working on – or much about Shuichi’s old case. But if you’re really investigating who I think you are . . . You should walk away.”

Kirigiri glared at her.

Akamatsu slumped. “I didn’t expect you would listen to me. But please remember what I said. Maybe you’ll consider it eventually.”

“Is that all?” Kirigiri demanded.

Akamatsu swallowed. She looked away from Kirigiri to Naegi.

“Naegi-kun, make sure you two stay safe, okay?”

Kirigiri expected Naegi to respond with a joke on how she was the one who did all the protecting. But this time, Naegi appeared to be taking it seriously. He nodded solemnly, setting his shoulders.

Once they were away and Akamatsu could not longer overhear, she asked, “What was that?”

“Kyoko, I’m not telling you that we should give up the case, but you must have noticed how weird it’s getting,” Naegi said. “I really don’t think we should dismiss all these warnings.”

“This isn’t the first time we’ve been threatened for taking on a controversial case,” she said.

“This is different _,_ ” Naegi insisted. “There’s been lots of criminals and witnesses warning us off things, but how often do our own friends say stuff like that? Kyoko, Akamatsu-san told us to _give up_. How does that not ring alarm bells?”

“A woman was murdered, Makoto,” Kirigiri said. She stepped in front of Naegi, and then stopped, facing him. “They _murdered_ someone. Are you saying we should walk away from that? That we should let the culprit go unpunished?”

She knew she had whipped out dirty tactics, but the sooner this conversation was dealt with, the better. Naegi would grow more and more doubtful the longer he thought about it, and this was a time she needed him strong.

“If not us, then who?” Kirigiri asked. “Someone has to stand up to them eventually, otherwise, they escalate. Maybe this isn’t even their first murder. But I think we can both agree that Hope’s Peak is dangerous. It’s our job to protect the public from this sort of danger, is it not?”

“. . .Yes. It is.”

He looked near to caving. “Don’t worry about me and my safety. Worry about the case. The sooner they are behind bars, the sooner the danger they represent is eliminated.”

“. . . I’ll try,” Naegi said, and it was the most she could hope for from him. “Let’s go to Nanami’s apartment.”

It was a decent walk from Saihara’s home to Nanami’s. Thankfully, the weather was nice. They reached the apartment building, presented their badges and warrants, and the landlord led them to the fourth-story room that had belonged to the victim. They stepped inside a small, but neat apartment. Kirigiri set her bag by the door and began investigating.

The first place she checked was the kitchen. It was a small area, with a little table to eat at. The table had only two chairs nearby; it was quite possible the victim didn’t bring others over much. There was bread on the counter, still bagged but covered in mold. No surprise. That was exactly what she . . .

No. That wasn’t what she expected. She glanced around. Along with the bread, there was a bit of fruit, also rotted. Both pointed to the same conclusion: the victim had not known in advance about the day she would die, unless the call for sacrifice had come suddenly.

She continued to search. The dishes were done and placed in the drying rack. When she checked the bedroom, she found an unmade bed. The two contradicted each other and raised an important question: Why bothering washing the dishes and not making routine bed? Given the neatness of Nanami’s apartment, she expected making the bed was something routine to her.

Yet the contradiction made sense when combined with a very simple concept:

Nanami Chiaki had expected to return home.

“Kyoko, look at this!” Naegi came running up with an opened envelope. She plucked it from him and then pulled out the letter inside.

 

_You know you’re not one of them. You’re not one of these boring, everyday humans. You’ve spent your whole life knowing that, looking for an answer why and trying to figure out how you’re special._

_You don’t need to do that anymore. We know what you really are. We know what you're meant to be.  
_

_Come to us. Embrace destiny._

_We’re waiting._

“Thoughts?” Naegi asked.

“This is bait,” Kirigiri said. “It’s standard cult behaviour, isn’t it? This idea that those belonging to the cult are somehow better than the rest. We saw that with Komaeda as well.”

“There was probably some voluntary component then,” Naegi said. “She probably didn’t understand the full extent of what she was getting into.”

“Consensual murder is still murder.”

She took a step away, intending to keep looking, but Naegi stopped her. He said, “Hold on. The coworkers’ testimony says Nanami was stressed, don’t they? This doesn’t seem like the kind of letter to stress someone out. Maybe we’re looking at this wrong. Maybe Nanami-san was being harassed by whomever wrote this letter.”

She nodded in approval. “A viable theory. I’ll remember that.”

Nanami’s apartment didn’t reveal too much else. There was a calendar marked with dates and times that based on their regularity and length, she deduced were the product of work shifts. Notably, some were for dates after the day she disappeared. Her search yielded little else that would suggest harassment, although there was a computer she was unable to get into. (She confiscated that for Fujisaki.) Now that she thought about it, in fact . . .

“Makoto, does this place seem a little _bare_ to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s undeniably the victim’s, but I’m noticing a lack of evidence that suggested she interacted with the outside world, other than working.”

“Not everyone is too social,” Naegi pointed out. “She has lots of video games, so maybe that’s how she entertained herself.”

She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Any party games?”

“Yeah, there’s all kind of games . . . Oh, I see what you’re saying. She could have brought them to other people’s houses and played them there.”

“It’s just . . . odd,” Kirigiri said. “I suppose her acquaintances’ contact information might only be on her electronic devices, although there’s still no sign of her phone.”

“Yeah, the body had nothing on it. Not even car keys,” Naegi remarked.

Oh. She hadn’t considered that. No car keys despite the last confirmed sighting being a neighbour had seen her drive off. It was even more evidence that the victim had not originally died in the garden. The question was where her car was now.

“At least this detour wasn’t completely useless,” Kirigiri said. “We have some evidence of Hope’s Peak’s activities. Perhaps they weren’t involved with the murder of that tribe, but it’s quite possible they’re sheltering someone who is.”

“Do you think Yonaga’s going to tell us the truth?” Naegi asked.

“Of course not.” She smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Naegi and Kirigiri tour Tanaka's home.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Update!
> 
> I'm super ahead in the rough drafts, so I think I'll start posting occasionally on Saturday/Sunday again.

Naegi knocked on the door. “Hello? Tanaka-kun, are you home?”

Behind him, Kirigiri scanned the surrounding woods. Using the same reasoning he had on her, Naegi had convinced Togami to officially sanction a wellness check; unofficially, they were searching for evidence Tanaka was involved with the case. That said, their honest description of their encounter with the man had prompted Togami to send Oogami Sakura with them as backup. The muscular woman was currently standing slightly behind Naegi, ready to shove past their smallest companion if need be.

“Tanaka-kun?” _Knock, knock._ “Can we talk to you?”

Silence. Naegi turned away and shrugged. They weren’t even sure this was Tanaka’s home. Togami had pulled up the names of people living in the area, but Tanaka’s name hadn’t popped up. Without a given name, they hadn’t much luck in discovering his registered address either. It definitely wasn’t this dwelling, though. She was pretty sure they were dealing with an insane squatter, because no one would dream of living in a shack like this. Tanaka’s “home” consisted of planks and nails – although she’d admit that if homemade, he was a better handyman than she’d thought. His hut lacked glass for the windows; they were protected only by shards of tattered fabric. The path leading up to his home was nothing more than a few kind-of flat pieces of rocks thrown in front of the door. She saw no evidence of electricity or plumbing.

Just as Naegi and Oogami walked away, the door opened a crack.

“Who dares to disturb the slumber of the mighty Sorcerer of Darkness?” came a loud, booming cry.

Oogami squared her shoulders. Kirigiri watched as the woman’s body centered itself, her center of mass coming to rest right above her hips. It was a position where Oogami could either quickly dive out of the way or charge an attacker.

Meanwhile, in complete opposition to his female companions, Naegi had practically skipped back to the door.

“Hello! This is Naegi Makoto. We met yesterday. I’m here with Kirigiri Kyoko and Oogami Sakura. Uh, we wanted to check on you because you said you lived in the woods and well, living like that can be really tough.”

A pause. Then echoing laughter.

“You, mortal, seek to inquire about the wellbeing of the spawn of hell himself? Humph. I applaud your spirit.” Half a face, half a face with a grey eye and a large scar, appeared in the door’s crack. “You have rid yourself of their mark.”

“The rosaries?” Naegi touched the part of his chest where the jewel would have laid. “Yes, we did. We know you don’t like Hope’s Peak so we didn’t wear them. We don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Did you burn them?”

“Uh. . .” Naegi hesitated. “They’re minerals.”

“Yes, I suppose you mortals would have to consider that. Very well. I shall humour you. Come, feast your eyes upon the great Tanaka!”

Tanaka wasn’t visible when the door opened. That instantly put her on guard, and a quick glance between her and Oogami confirmed they were on the same page. Naegi, too, looked over his shoulder at them, waiting for further instructions. Without a word, Oogami gently nudged Naegi aside and then entered first.

Luckily for them, Tanaka had merely been busy pushing the window shades back, allowing some light to seep in. That rattled strings of mystic-looking totems hanging from the window’s top, similar to a windchime. Tanaka himself slouched nearby, scarf pulled up to hide his jaw. Oogami was in the center of the hut, turning slowly as she studied the place. The hut was better furnished than Kirigiri had expected. The furniture looked like it came from a legitimate store rather than being handmade.

Despite the lack of windows, the hut seemed clean. There was a small bed shoved up next to a wall, its blankets crumpled, so that they spilled onto the floor. A large lantern sat on a nearby desk that was cluttered with papers. Above the desk, there was a billboard with two closed doors that hid its contents. Most of the floor was wooden, but it was stone around the wood heater.

“You live in these conditions? It is very rustic,” Oogami said, and Kirigiri didn’t hear disapproval there.

“The Dark Lord’s duties are too important to concern himself with creature comforts,” Tanaka grunted.

“The Dark Lord? Forgive me, but of whom do you speak?” Oogami asked.

Naegi leaned over. “He’s talking about himself.”

“He’s also The Supreme Sorcerer of Darkness, The Forbidden One and the spawn of hell,” Kirigiri sighed.

“It is wise for you to remember my many names,” Tanaka said proudly. He slumped over to Naegi, and both Kirigiri and Oogami started to move when Tanaka poked his chest. “Especially given the unholy path you walk.”

Tanaka’s finger was still pressing into Naegi’s chest where that rosary should be. Tanaka tilted his head to one side and Kirigiri thought she saw something intelligent – calculating – there.

“What you have done is not enough,” Tanaka said, taking his finger away. “A passive rebellion will not save ones like you; not those who would introduce themselves with their given names. To make such an amateur mistake. . . I can only imagine how ingrained the Deep Ones' roots are.”

My, Tanaka enjoyed his dramatic words.

“Are the Deep Ones another word for Hope’s Peak?” Naegi asked.

“No.”

Tanaka turned sharply. He spun a quarter-circle and then stopped, facing the direction that would have taken him to Hope’s Peak. The hate in his glare was palpable, as if his walls were transparent and the church was visible from this very spot.

“The Deep Ones sleep in the bowels of space, awaiting the end. Hope’s Peak is nothing. They are the Deep Ones’ _spawn_. That church is nothing but a window to the true corruption and insanity of the universe.” He raised a fist, and clenched it. “To shutter that window. . . that is my desire. I will surely be slain regardless of my success, but to extend their sleep, even if only for a few years. . . it may be enough.”

“Slain?” Oogami echoed. She didn’t seem to know what else she should comment on.

Tanaka chuckled. “I would expect a mortal to react like that. My destiny has always been to burn in the flames of the underworld.”

“Tanaka-kun, why are you so certain they’re going to kill you?” Naegi asked sharply. “Have they threatened you before?”

“The Deep Ones? No. If I were to linger in their presence long enough to hear those words, I would already be in hell,” Tanaka said.

“Even though you’re a Dark Lord and the Supreme Sorcerer of Darkness?” Kirigiri pointed out, not really succeeding at keeping the derision out of her tone. (Not that she was trying hard.)

Tanaka’s eyes glinted in the dim light. “This planet will never be the center of the universe.”

She tried not to roll her eyes.

If Tanaka were younger, smaller, then she was sure that Naegi would have stooped down to his level, and made eye-contact. But Naegi, being as short as he was, ended up on his tiptoes in a vain attempt to replicate that eye contact.

“We want to help you,” Naegi said firmly. “If they’ve done something wrong or if you’re in danger, we want to take them away so they can’t hurt you. But to do that, we need proof that what you’re saying is true.”

Tanaka reminded her of a vulture as he surveyed Naegi. His bandaged hand snapped out suddenly, but it was only to ruffle Naegi’s hair. It annoyed her because Naegi shouldn’t mingle so closely with the mentally unstable, and his cuteness wasn’t public property.

“You would try to imprison them?” Tanaka said, amused. “How innocent of you humans. They cannot be caged. They would bend space itself and seep through the bars. Only the dark magics of my clan can contain them.”

This was growing boring. Naegi was trying, but she could sense the conversation was going in circles. Given that Tanaka couldn’t even pretend to sound sane, he was useless until he provided physical evidence. And perhaps he could. Individuals with an obsession like this tended to collect items that belonged to their quarry. Like documents; and Tanaka sure had a lot of papers on his desk.

She snuck over. To her, the papers had looked messy and disorganized. Up closer though, she could see there was a pattern. They were sorted into piles; the problem was that many of the piles overlapped. The one on top, the first page she saw, bore the same symbol that the holy scripture of Hope’s Peak did. That wasn’t what interested her, though. What interested her was that the text underneath was in a language she _understood_ –

“No!”

Tanaka lunged. He slid across the floor until he was between her and the desk, and threw his arms out.

“These are not meant for your eyes!” Tanaka protested. “They are too dangerous.”

“It is only writing,” Oogami said. She approached Tanaka carefully, speaking slowly and quietly to keep him calm. “Forgive my friend. She is very curious.”

Through his scarf, Tanaka mumbled. “That curiosity will kill you all.”

She ignored that statement, as did Naegi. Oogami, on the other hand, lit up with a fierce aura.

“I will not tolerate threats, even metaphorical ones, towards my friends!” Oogami rumbled.

Surprisingly, Tanaka shrunk back. “. . . Sorry.”

With that, Oogami became the center of attention. Perfect. She reached over to uncover the bulletin board, and pulled the twin doors open. Faces stared back at her: Komaeda’s face, Enoshima’s face, Shinguji’s – all of them. Below each were scribble notes, too messy to decipher without conscious effort. Lines connected the photos, each labelled and . . . it looked like a police board. On the side furthest from her, there was a map. Not of the area, not of the outside, but of the _interior_ of the church. She managed to look it over before Tanaka caught her.

“No!” Tanaka shouted. The doors slammed shut so suddenly that it nearly clipped her nose. “You . . . you have no right!”

“Open it,” she ordered.

Tanaka bared his teeth. “I will not. You have no right to search my belongings.”

Kirigiri could sense Oogami behind her, ready to intervene. With that extra weight behind her words, she declared, “You allowed us into your home. That gives us the right to act upon evidence that would suggest you are planning a crime or harm to the public.”

“. . . Only if it’s in plain sight,” Tanaka said.

She hesitated.

Tanaka repeated those words and that seemed to renew his confidence. He peeled himself off the board and stared into her eyes. “You may act upon evidence that is within plain sight. What you saw was originally hidden; therefore, your argument is meaningless!”

“The board may have been hidden, but these are not,” she shot back as she gestured to the papers on the desk with Hope’s Peak’s logo. She’d admit it. That had rattled her. She hadn’t expected Tanaka to know anything about police protocols.

Tanaka stared back at her. “Your words are nonsense.”

“There’s no point lying to me. These -”

She stopped. Stared. Her hand rested on the papers she had seen before, but they weren’t the same. She still understood the text, but they were nonsense – nothing to do with the church. The drawing of the church’s logo had been replaced by a scribble that looked like it was a child’s attempt at drawing a face.

“Your presence is no longer welcome,” Tanaka declared. “Leave.”

Technically, they had to listen. Technically, they had no right to stay. She bristled anyways, but Naegi and Oogami had already surrendered and retreated towards the exit.

There was a bitter taste in her mouth as she closed the door behind them. She didn’t need to break the law to finish her investigation, but it would save a lot of time. It wasn’t her fault that others couldn’t restrain themselves from going too far.

“Kyoko, what did you see?”

“He’s definitely obsessed with Hope’s Peak,” Kirigiri said. “He seems to be searching for something, but I’m not sure what. Those papers . . . I thought they were about Hope’s Peak, but after that second look, I see I was mistaken.”

“He may be dangerous,” Oogami rumbled. “Perhaps not to you, but to those at Hope’s Peak. The way he moves suggest someone has trained him in combat. I do not know which kind, but he is a warrior. I do not like the thought of you two encountering him without backup.”

“Makoto and I have dealt with worse, but I appreciate the concern.”

“Where will you go now?” Oogami asked.

“To the church,” Kirigiri said. “Thank you for accompanying us this far, but we have no further need for your skills.”

“I will escort you to the church’s doors,” Oogami said firmly.

Kirigiri didn’t respond, and began leading the way.

It wasn’t a long trip. All they had to do was walk north. They trudged through the trough with the white powder (lab tests had confirmed it was salt mixed with other chemicals, but nothing dangerous) and back through the bush. The trees seem to fall away suddenly, and the stone wall surrounding Hope’s Peak’s garden came into focus. As they approached the gate, they saw Komaeda through the bars. The pastor was picking leaves out of the fountain’s water.

“Hi, Komaeda-kun!” Naegi said.

Komaeda’s spine seemed to roll somehow as he straightened up, like a cobra rearing up to strike. “Hello. Did you two find what you were looking for?”

“Yes,” Naegi said without explaining further.

“I see.” Komaeda approached the gate. His hands were clasped in front of him. “Naegi-kun, what’s that on your shoes?”

“Uh . . .” Naegi looked down.

“Ah, you went to where all that salt had been spilt,” Komaeda said. With a hand, he cradled his chin. “Would you mind wiping it off? It’s not good for the plants.”

“Huh? Oh, sure! I wouldn’t want to hurt any of them. Your garden is really beautiful.” Naegi eagerly wiped his soles clean. Kirigiri did, too, after Komaeda stared at her.

“Yes, the garden is quite wonderful,” Komaeda said casually. “It makes Atua proud.”

“You worship Atua, too?” Kirigiri asked. That made her think of Yonaga, and then Komaeda and Yonaga gushing over Atua together; that made her queasy.

“Me worshipping Atua?” Komaeda laughed. “That would be pretty silly. I’m just saying that the garden is one of Atua’s favourite creations. He has a strong nurturing instinct.”

“Is that so? What’s your evidence?” she asked.

“Just look at Yonaga-san,” he answered. “Atua’s so direct with his tutoring. None of us would have dreamed of such a personal approach, and . . . Well, it’s not like I could have done it a different way, but . . . It just makes me feel guilty sometimes.”

“. . . Right.”

“Well, there’s no need for you two to stay out there,” Komaeda said. “Come inside.”

The gate swung open. Kirigiri nodded at Oogami and then walked through the gate. Naegi trotted after her. Oogami stayed where she was, careful eyes upon them until they reached the door to the church and disappeared inside.

“What were you looking for?” Komaeda asked as he closed the door behind them.

“Confidential,” the two said promptly.

His weight still resting on the door, Komaeda spoke. “Hmm, if I had to take a guess, you were looking for evidence. How insightful of Kirigiri-san! The woods would be a good place to hide things. But seeing as you had salt on your shoes, I’ll also guess that you met Tanaka. A very good friend of ours . . .” Komaeda suddenly smiled. “You looked surprised, Naegi-kun.”

Kirigiri looked. Indeed, Naegi had been unable to hide his bewilderment at Komaeda’s claim. It was as good as a confession.

“I see. You did speak to Tanaka. Yes, I was lying. He isn’t a friend. Normally, I would still say he’s an interesting character, but he doesn’t deserve praise.” The venom was subdued, but she heard it. “He’s a pest. We can’t pass over that line without. . . Kirigiri-san, did you know that land is not registered to him?”

It wasn’t even a subtle prod. She looked him in the eye, giving away nothing, and said, “We have bigger concerns right now. Once this case is over, we may consider looking into that.”

The hook was set. It worked sometimes, offering a suspect an incentive to get the case over with. In their eagerness to speed things up, sometimes they ‘remembered’ or found things that became their undoing. Komaeda, however, seemed to know exactly what she was doing, if the gleam in his eye was any indicator.

“Is Yonaga Angie present?” she asked.

Komaeda pointed to the nave. Yonaga was standing by her lonesome, staring at the ceiling.

They approached.

“Yonaga Angie,” Kirigiri barked.

“Hello!” Yonaga turned with a little wave. If she noticed Kirigiri’s tenseness, she didn’t comment.

“I have some questions about your former tribe.” Kirigiri stopped fast, and crossed her arms over her chest. “My understanding is that they’re dead.”

“Yep!” Yonaga said. Kirigiri’s statement didn’t seem to have any emotional impact on her. “Atua didn’t like that they drowned me, so he got revenge and drowned them, too!”

Drowning? Was that honestly how they all died? She could see the suspicious circumstances in that. Barring a flash flood or tsunami, the amount of work it would take to drown a group of people was not small.

“Who told you they drowned?” she demanded.

“Duh, Atua!” Yonaga said, as if Kirigiri were dumb for asking.

“And how did he inform you of this? By email?”

“No, He told me.” Yonaga gave her a strange look.

Right. She had forgotten the whole ‘hearing the voices of God’ shtick Yonaga was trying to sell. What a convenient excuse. Until she came up with physical evidence, Yonaga could claim whatever she wanted.

“Were _you_ upset that your tribe tried to drown you?” Kirigiri asked. Perhaps this ‘Atua’ was a reflection of Yonaga’s subconscious. Or a symptom of an undiagnosed condition.

“I was . . .” Yonaga said slowly. “I was angry and confused. But it’s all over now and I have Atua, so there’s no need for me to keep thinking about it.”

_And there we have a motive._

“Where did you go once your tribe was gone?” Naegi asked. Kirigiri didn’t fail to notice how he avoided saying ‘dead.’ “You didn’t spend all that time alone, did you?”

“When I became His Voice, I became a lower member of the family, so Atua took me to them.”

“Were Enoshima and Komaeda there?” Kirigiri cut in.

Yonaga smiled brightly. “Yes!”

She had suspected it, but it was certainly sounded like her theory was right: Hope’s Peak was a minor part of the picture. There was a much bigger base hidden somewhere out there. If she were to pair this with Tanaka’s statement, she bet this home base was where the ‘Deep Ones’ lived.

They spoke some more with Yonaga. From what they gathered, while the three of them had been near, Yonaga had spent most of her time with worshippers of her god, or as she claimed, Atua himself. Apparently, Atua was creating some kind of – Yonaga called it a haven but it sounded to her like a metaphorical ant tank – habitable planet, so he could continue to watch and play with humans long after the rest of humanity died. Supposedly, Yonaga had spent the time after her tribe’s disappearance assisting with that, teaching Atua about humans or preparing Atua’s flock for an unlikely departure. It reminded her of the Noah’s Ark myth, only about humans instead of animals. Either way, Yonaga didn’t seem to be saying anything about Komaeda and Enoshima.

They let Yonaga go. Naegi turned, and then gave a small wave. When Kirigiri turned to check why, Ikusaba was there, looking ashamed at being caught. How was it that Ikusaba kept sneaking up on them?

“Were you eavesdropping?” Kirigiri demanded.

“I didn’t know your conversation was private,” Ikusaba said. “You were speaking pretty loudly. . .”

Kirigiri huffed. It was partly their fault for not holding this conversation in a more secluded area, but it wasn’t like Yonaga had said anything useful either. No harm done.

“I wonder what it was like,” Ikusaba murmured, “to be chosen like that.”

“Weren’t you chosen, too?” Naegi asked. “Komaeda-kun seems to think that all of you are special.”

“It’s not the same,” Ikusaba said. “I wasn’t supposed to be here. I’m only here because Junko-chan wanted me.”

“You’re her sister,” Naegi pointed out. “I think it’s natural to want family with you.”

“You don’t understand,” Ikusaba said. “We’re nothing alike. Junko-chan’s special. I’m just human.”

Kirigiri squinted. How much of this was real, and how much of it was an act? Ikusaba had surely noticed Naegi’s sympathetic look and soft smile. Kirigiri _certainly_ had, and she was almost glad when Komaeda came over and Ikusaba scurried away.

“Don’t listen to her,” Komaeda said. “She may not be on the same level as us, but she’s part of the family.”

“What do you mean she’s not on the same level?” Naegi growled.

Kirigiri, seeing her chance, grabbed his shoulder and whispered into his ear. “Keep him distracted.”

Naegi blinked, but then locked onto Komaeda. Komaeda listened peacefully as Naegi went into one of his ‘Everyone Matters’ rants. Kirigiri inched away, as if she were abandoning Komaeda to handle the irate Naegi alone. When Komaeda’s eyes didn’t follow her, she headed for her real target.

She checked a few times more to make sure she wasn’t being watched. Once sure the way was clear, she stepped into the confession. That blueprint she had seen in Tanaka’s house was bright in her mind . . . but where? She had already checked the walls and there were no obvious hinges in the floor . . .

Oh.

She looked at the bench. She grabbed the edge, and lifted. It held at first, but then there was a _click_ and the seat lifted. She stared at a dark staircase whose steps descended into pitch black.

She reached into her purse, took out her flashlight, and headed down the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Now that she's successfully split the party, Kirigiri investigates the dark, creepy basement alone!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't check Sunday, there was also an update on that day, as I am now updating twice a week.

Walking down the stairs felt like walking into the gullet of a massive beast. If she stood in the middle and put her arms up, she’d have to bend them at the elbow to make them fit. Rough stone walls clawed at whatever flesh they touched, so she kept her limbs tucked in close. A current of air ran up the stairs, warm and damp. It held a lingering stench of wet dirt and mold.

She moved slowly. This was not the regular darkness of night she was facing, where a flashlight was enough to fully illuminate her surroundings. This was a deep darkness, the pure darkness found in caves, where the walls and the great darkness down the staircase swallowed her flashlight’s beam. With every step, her heel clacked against the stone steps, and the sound echoed over and over, as if the atoms in the tunnel had never experienced such a thing before and were desperate to hold onto it.

Down she went. Down into the dark. The wind seemed to grow and wane in intensity. There appeared to be no insects down here, or they were fast for her flashlight to track. Her phone beeped once, warning her its signal was lost.

The passage at the bottom of the stairs were as narrow as the staircase. Had she been a foot taller, she would have to stoop. The walls curved here, and small channels carved from erosion ran around their circumference. Water lay in small puddles on the ground, and more dripped from where it had condensated on the ceiling above.

She examined one of the erosion trails. Features like these didn’t pop up overnight, or even over a year. These took decades to form, yet the church was only a few years old. It was obvious they had known about this tunnel, or else they wouldn’t have hidden its entrance so carefully with the confessional.

The _soundproof_ confessional, she recalled. They most certainly knew.

She still didn’t have an answer for the mismatching times, but the unknown beckoned onward. She kept going. The tunnel must lead somewhere – what was the point, otherwise? But what did it lead to? The murder scene? A horde of stolen goods? Had she discovered the equivalent of Paris’s catacombs? She knew without doubt that in recent memory, she was one of few to breathe in this place, and the thrill of discovery shuddered through her. Even considered the strange array of cases she had worked, it was unusual to find such an old, desolate place.

She reached a small chamber. There were two paths she could take from here: left or right. She slipped off a glove, licked her finger, and held it aloft. The wind was coming from the left passage. She would follow that one then, find the current’s origin.

She continued to explore. She went down the _left_ passage. She ran over that word in her mind, memorizing it. There were no stairs, but this passage sloped downwards. She followed it, one hand on the wall for support. These walls, the floor, the ceiling, they were perfectly smooth. Completely unnaturally smooth. she couldn’t even see any marks left by the machines used to create these passages.

She wasn’t sure if the original staircase or this new tunnel was longer. All she knew was that it felt like a long time before the tunnel opened into a cavern. A quick visual sweep of the walls and the torches upon them revealed what she had already known: she was not the cave’s first explorer within a decade. It still disappointed her.

Whomever had been done here before must be planning to return, as they had left a lighter below one of the torches. Shame she couldn’t use it; the risk of a smoky smell remaining long enough for the next visitor was too high. Thankfully, her flashlight was enough for her to look around. She was barely able to light up the ceiling enough to scrutinize it, but she studied the ground, and found it spilled out into a large expanse of water.

A ripple passed over the surface. She knelt at the shore and dipped her finger. Cold. Freezing cold. If she had to guess, given how close the swamp was, the water was naturally occurring. With the flashlight in hand, her own face looked back at her from the water’s surface. Then, a flash of white blocked out her lower jaw. Something was in the water, something small but fast. Fish? She clicked on her flashlight again and sent the beam over the water. She didn’t see a fish, but there was a splash further off.

It was odd. This cavern, well hidden in the church, filled with possibly carnivorous fish and a healthy amount of water that would help smother the scent of anything beneath, had not been used to hide the body. Even though it was perfect. That led her to one equally bizarre conclusion that she’d entertained before: Nanami Chiaki’s murderer wanted her body discovered. But _why?_

 _Could Tanaka be that desperate to get rid of the church?_ she wondered. The man must have known about this secret area; she’d learnt about it from the map in his home, after all. But, she had no evidence to suggest he was responsible. Yet.

Apart from the very obvious lake, there was something else on the ground: a square carved in the very center of the room, and within that square, there was a thick metal semicircle. She didn’t see any reason why.

Until she pointed the flashlight up.

Something gleamed back at her. She had to step back, adjust the angle of the light beam to see it. It was something made of metal . . . a loop. A metallic loop sunken into the stone, where this part of the ceiling seemed to be at its lowest point . . .

A loop for a chain.

Yes. A loop where a chain could be passed through and locked. Then the semicircle within that square . . .

She reached down. There was a tiny gap between the semicircle and the rest of the ground, and she wiggled her fingers into it.

The semicircle lifted. Another metallic loop. One loop to chain the arms. One loop to chain the legs.

Bingo.

She took her phone and snapped pictures. _Finally_ , some solid evidence that Hope’s Peak was up to no good. True, she couldn’t prove they had installed or used them, but they had known about this place and not reporting this was very suspicious.

She went back to the original room, and chose the right passage this time. This floor sloped upwards and seemed to have better traction. She walked and walked, and unlike before, a soft came from an opening up ahead.

The staircase, the tunnel, the cavern; they had all been small spaces, sensible considering the labour that must have gone into creating them. This new room was not. A small bungalow could fit inside this gaping space. Small, blue lantern-like lights sat along the wall in a circle, creating a halo who essence drifted downward to the ground below. Kirigiri was at the top of the chamber and to her left, a spiraling staircase ran along the circular wall to the room’s bottom. In the room, there was a raised platform with several sections that branched off and curled toward the ceiling, like fingers growing from a hand.

When she walked down the winding stairs, the light from the blue lanterns seemed to dim; the roof of the room was wreathed in blue, but her current location seemed dark. She walked straight into the center of the platform – nay, this must be another chancel – and looked around.

From here, new things were visible. The tentacle-like fingers stretched to the ceiling and upon there, intertwined and curled around each other to form three rings that overlapped at the center. If she were to be boring, she could say it was a boring picture of a three-item Venn diagram. The symbol at her feet, carved into the stone, was more exciting. It looked like the mercury symbol, but there was a squashed ellipse instead of a circle, and the ellipse’s ‘horns’ were much bigger and curled further inward. If she remembered correctly, this symbol might have been on one of the first pages of the scripture.

There were mirrors attached to the insides of the fingers, so that when she stood here in the center, she could see herself from all angles. A shallow pool of water also lay in the middle of the chancel, surrounding a small platform. Naegi’s ‘baptism’ seemed like a poor imitation of what lay within this room. She’d bet that members of Komaeda’s elite family were intiated in a ceremony performed here.

She checked her phone. She’d spent long enough down here. Though she wanted to keep investigating, this early, it was more important for her covert activities not to be detected. She turned around and headed back through the passage, excitement making her move faster. Her footsteps echoed, one sound coming after another.

The seat of the confessional bench opened with a slam. She walked out into the nave, finding Naegi, Komaeda and Ikusaba were all gone. The door to the garden was the closest, so she checked that first. Shinguji, carefully pruning some petunias, looked up at her.

“I thought Enoshima-san was in charge of the garden,” Kirigiri said.

“For now, she is the primary caretaker,” Shinguji said, “but I like to offer my touch here and there. They’re beautiful, yes?”

She ignored that. “Do you know where Naegi-kun is?”

“He is with Nagito in the kitchen,” Shinguji said.

It took her a bit to find the kitchen, but she did and there they were. Naegi was sitting at a table, hands clasped around a steaming mug. Komaeda leaned against a counter nearby and given how the two turned simultaneously to look at her, she had interrupted a conversation.

“Kyoko! We were having some tea. Do you want some?”

Without a word, she sat next to Naegi and glared at his mug. What was he doing? You weren’t supposed to accept beverages offered by suspects. She reached for it –

“You don’t need to do that,” Komaeda said quickly. “I’d be honoured to make Kirigiri-san her own cup.”

She waited until Komaeda’s back was turned, and then sniffed Naegi’s tea. Pungent. Likely a kind of strong, exotic tea. The liquid level indicated Naegi had already sampled it, but that didn’t mean she planned on doing the same.

Komaeda handed her a mug. The tea was a light red in colour. Naegi must have gotten cream in his, because his was a different shade. She made a point of sitting and not drinking when Komaeda set it down in front of her.

“You disappeared in the middle of our conversation,” Komaeda said. “Where did you go?”

“The washroom at first,” she said easily. “After that, I decided to look around.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Nothing important.”

“What are you looking for?” Komaeda asked. “This is my church. I could probably help you find it.”

“That’s unnecessary,” Kirigiri said.

Komaeda smiled. “Whatever you say.”

Her fingers drummed against the table in irritation. “What were you two talking about?”

“Just small talk,” Komaeda said. “Nothing interesting.”

Boring to Komaeda but it might be useful to them for building up profiles. Or noticing a discrepancy in their testimonies. That’s what Komaeda got for writing Naegi off.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” Kirigiri said. “The Chief needs to speak to us.”

“I understand. You shouldn’t let that tea go to waste though,” Komaeda said.

“I never wanted it.”

Next to her, Naegi grabbed his mug and lifted it to his mouth. It took him a couple of swallows to get it all down, then he wiped his lips with his sleeve. “Alright, let’s go!”

Naegi, as always, moved quickly, at the door by the time she stood up. He waited for her there, and then trotted off ahead. Kirigiri followed him and shut the door.

When she got outside by the road with Naegi, he was calling Togami to check in. She took the time to scope out the area. Specifically, she looked for Ikusaba, the person she _never_ seemed to notice. It didn’t look like she could hide anywhere nearby, but the walls around the parking lot loomed above them, and it was very possible their voices would carry that far. While Naegi was busy talking, she gently grabbed hold of his shoulder and moved them to the other side of the street.

“So, what were you looking for?” Naegi asked once he had hung up.

She told him. She told him about what she had seen at Tanaka’s house, and how she had confirmed it was true. She told him about the dark, narrow space she had climbed into, and where it took her. She told him about the damp cavern and the room with its strange altar. Naegi listened silently, not asking a single question until it was over.

“Not a bad end to a day,” she commented. “I’m glad you wanted to check on Tanaka.”

Naegi stared at her. “How could you do that?”

Hmm? That wasn’t the reaction she had expected.

“How could you . . .?” Naegi tugged a bit at his collar, one of his common indicators for stress. “Why? This is a _murder_ case, and you’ve been perfectly clear that you think one of them is the killer. Yet you still decided to investigate a dark, secret cavern all by yourself and you didn’t think to say _anything_ to me?”

“I normally would have right before I went down, but Komaeda was there,” she said. “I wanted to draw as little attention to myself as possible.”

“That doesn’t matter!” Naegi cried. “Maybe you thought I had seen that blueprint in Tanaka-kun’s place, too, but I had no idea that tunnel existed. Do you think Komaeda or the others were going to tell me about it? What if something had happened down there? You would have disappeared, and I wouldn’t have been able to do anything. We don’t even have a police dog anymore to track you.”

“Makoto,” she snapped with a bit of annoyance to her tone, “I understand your concern, but I can take care of myself.”

“The point of having a partner is that you don’t need to. You’re the one who always likes to have backup plans. You shouldn’t be going in places like that alone and I don’t care if you think Komaeda is with me, because. . . _ugh!_ ” He stepped back a little, as if something had punched him in the stomach and winded him. He pulled at his collar more, with both hands this time, before stilling.

Quietly, he asked, “Don’t you feel it?”

She waited, letting him know she had no idea to what he was referring.

He said, “This case. We both know it’s not normal. Whatever we’re really investigating, I can’t shake off the feeling that it’s dangerous.”

“That is normal. We are investigating a group that we believe to be an underground criminal group. Secretive groups want to keep their true purpose a secret, and are dangerous for it.”

“It’s more than that. They’re weird. Like _really_ weird. There’s something off about them and how everything’s been set up. Komaeda, he . . . he seems to like you or find you interesting or something, and it’s only when he’s around that I . . . Doesn’t the way he move feel wrong somehow?”

“It’s called gut instinct,” she said. “It’s not unheard of to feel that way when confronting sociopaths.”

“It’s not that!” Naegi cried. “I can’t explain it, but . . . something’s _wrong_ with them and you definitely shouldn’t be walking into dark, creepy places alone without telling me.”

“Alright, fine. Next time, I’ll give you warning.”

Naegi still didn’t look satisfied. His throat was tense, signalling he still wanted to talk.

“I don’t want you alone with Komaeda,” he blurted out.

“He’s both the primary suspect and witness, along with the owner of the church. I don’t think that’s realistic.”

Naegi knew that as well as her, but he couldn’t hold back his frustration. She looked him over. His body was strung. His eyes were puffy. She had known he wasn’t sleeping well these past few days, but she hadn’t realized he was worrying about things this much.

She said, “Togami-kun needs to check that forest again with a proper search party. We don’t need to be there for that.”

Naegi didn’t say anything.

“We can take some time off tomorrow,” she told him. “Maizono-san wanted to get together for lunch, didn’t she?”

“Yeah, she did,” Naegi said, voice hollow. “We could call her.”

“Why don’t you do that?” she said.

Naegi dialed the number and even as he listened to the ringing, he already looked like he was settling down a bit. She hadn’t thought about it at the time, but perhaps this explained something that had happened earlier: Komaeda might have asked about her dating status just to stress out Naegi. If that were the case, his plan had certainly succeeded. She’d have to keep an eye on both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Naegi and Kirigiri hang out with Maizono.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I work past midnight today, so you can have your chapter now.
> 
> Also, keep this in mind for all future chapters: the Imposter **is not** a character in this story.

The space in bed next to her was empty again. She stared at it, and sighed. After shrugging on her day clothes and going through her morning, routine she headed downstairs. Once again, Naegi was at the kitchen table. A half-empty mug of coffee sat before him. Without a word, she took the seat across from him, and waited.

Eventually, he started speaking. “You know those dreams that make you wake up with your heart pounding, but you can’t remember them? I thought I wrote what down I remembered last time, but I can’t find the paper so . . .”

“Are these dreams the same as last time?” she asked. Naegi had periodic episodes where he had constant night terrors. It wasn’t surprising. Kirigiri’s skills meant they had frequent encounters with unusual or nasty cases, and Naegi’s detractors could easily describe him as a bleeding heart. In particular, family violence and child victims seemed to trigger his episodes.

“I only remember snatches,” Naegi said. “Like feelings. Based on that though, I think they are.”

“We can pick up a sleeping aid on the way back,” she offered.

“I’d like that.”

They sat together in silence. Naegi didn’t like to talk after a nightmare, preferring instead to dwell on whatever sour aftertaste it had left. She knew that he still appreciated the company, however. She took the time to review the notes she had made about the case in her notebook. Funny. They had more evidence that Hope’s Peak as a whole was up to something shady rather than which specific individual had struck the killing blow.

She got a text later from Togami confirming he and his officers were on the way to the church. She’d also passed on the intel about the secret passage to him, asking him to check the water for any hidden evidence or bodies. The other officers’ presence should occupy Komaeda and the others; perhaps they wouldn’t notice she and Naegi were absent.

Naegi was looking much better by this time. She didn’t know whether it was because he had shaken off the nightmare, or because he’d realized they’d see Maizono soon. She’d admit it: she had held a jealous grudge towards Maizono for longer than she liked to remember. Maizono, Naegi’s oldest friend, was beautiful and charismatic, always greeting you with a smile that reminded Kirigiri of Naegi himself. She and Naegi meshed very well, and it was only natural for Kirigiri to view her as competition. Eventually though, Kirigiri had understood that for whatever reason, Naegi and Maizono were genuinely not interested in dating each other.

A car honked outside. The two of them rose and headed out the door.

“Hey, Sayaka!” Naegi said as he slid into the back seat.

Maizono waved in the rear mirror. “Hey, guys! Did you want to go anywhere in particular?”

“You choose,” Kirigiri said. “I trust your judgement.”

They didn’t spend long on the road before Maizono addressed them. “Rough case?”

Naegi jerked violently. “How did you know?”

Maizono shrugged with one shoulder. “I’m psychic. Kidding, you look pretty worn-down. Are you having nightmares again?”

“Yeah. Obviously, I’m not hiding it too well.” Naegi relaxed into the car seat.

“Take a nap. It’ll take a bit to get there.”

Naegi took Maizono’s words as permission to burrow into Kirigiri’s side. His head rested on her shoulder, nose wrinkling as a strand of her hair tickled it. She patted his head. To her surprise, he dozed off in the middle of the drive.

“It’s not a kid again, is it?” Maizono asked quietly.

“Not this time. The murder’s rather clean,” Kirigiri said. “He’s worked himself into a frenzy over a perceived threat to my safety. Honestly, I sometimes I wonder why he chose such a grim career.”

“Makoto’s always had a strong sense of justice,” Maizono said. “He likes helping people, and we both know he isn’t tough enough to be a regular police officer.”

“Still, I would have expected someone like him to lean towards community service.”

“Oh, why? Do you regret working with him?” Maizono teased.

“Funny.”

“Come on, laugh a little. You know I’m joking.” Maizono said. “You’ve always liked taking care of him.”

“It must be his innocent smile,” she agreed. She stroked Naegi’s hair. “I can’t quite explain why, but I’ve had a compulsion to protect him ever since I met him.”

“You two are so adorable! I should make Leon shadow you for a day.”

About ten minutes later, they reached their destination. She shook Naegi awake and guided him out of the car. Maizono walked ahead, tasting the air as her hair swayed in the breeze.

She said, “It’s such a lovely day. What do you say, you two? Eat outside on the patio?”

Kirigiri didn’t care, so she let Naegi agree for her. That’s where they ended up: at a patio table of a small café. An older couple walked by, paused, then murmured to each other before calling Maizono’s name. Maizono smiled and waved.

“Fans, huh? Oh, last time you said something about your director trying out a new show, didn’t you? What’s happening with that?” Naegi asked.

“Yes!” Maizono sat perfectly straight and her chin lifted with pride, as it always did when the subject of her theatre career came up. “He’s running a competition for local playwrights, and we’re going to bring the winner’s script to life. Make sure you get Komaru to tell Fukawa-san.”

The two of them giggled. All three of them knew perfectly well that Fukawa would reject any suggestion about what she should do with her writing . . . unless Komaru was the one who pushed it.

“How is Komaru anyways?”

The two of them talked back and forth, and Kirigiri ate her meal. Though they made efforts to include her, there was always an element of third-wheeling when it came to the three of them. She didn’t mind (usually), and she especially didn’t mind today because the purpose of this excursion was to let Naegi relax. That said, her goal became harder to meet when a certain couple happened upon them.

“Yoo-hoo! Look who it is!”

There was a small waist-high fence dividing them, but Enoshima cared not for boundaries. She happily hopped over while Kamukura kept walking until he found the gate. Enoshima pranced up to them, grinning predatorily, and pulled up a chair of her own.

“Hey, guys! We didn’t expect to see you here,” Enoshima greeted.

“Oh, uh, we didn’t either.” Naegi looked at Maizono. “Uh, this is Enoshima Junko. The guy coming our way is Kamukura Izuru.”

“Like, it’s nice to meet you!” Enoshima said, extending her hand.

Maizono looked at Enoshima questioningly. She reached slowly to take that hand, never looking away from Enoshima’s face. “I’m Goto Yuri.”

Kirigiri and Naegi said nothing.

“Okay.” Enoshima said with a tone that suggested she didn’t really care. “So, what are you two doing here? I’d thought you’d be back at the church, seeing how your friends are tearing the place up. Is this another case you’re working on?”

“No. We’re not on duty right now. We don’t work all the time,” Naegi said uncomfortably.

“Not even when you have a super important case?” Enoshima asked, pursing her lip in an exaggerated pout. “I thought that with everything that’s going on, you two would _really_ want to solve this one.”

“What do you mean by ‘everything that’s going on?’” Kirigiri demanded.

Hand in front of her mouth, Enoshima gave an innocent, little giggle. “Nothing important!”

“Junko . . .” Kamukura sighed. Kirigiri didn’t know if Kamukura had overheard the conversation, but he seemed to assume Enoshima had said something she shouldn’t. Kamukura gently nudged Enoshima away so she was no longer right in their faces. But then Enoshima flopped dramatically, crying out about how she didn’t want to leave her _friends_ without a good conversation.

Enoshima flounced off to grab another chair. Kamukura said to them, “I tried.”

And Enoshima was back, dragging a chair with her. She nearly tossed it at Kamukura, who caught it without a change of expression, and then she scooted back into the chair sitting between Naegi and Maizono.

“So, how long have you two known each other?” Enoshima asked. Her elbows were on the table, chin in her hands, and she stared up at Naegi as if truly fascinated by the sight before her.

“We’ve been best friends since we were children,” Naegi said.

“Like, mothers-in-the-same-hospital-room friends?”

“Not that young.”

Maizono spoke up. “We met when we were seven.”

Inside, Kirigiri felt something clench. That was also a lie. Naegi and Maizono had told her they met when they were three. Right now, Naegi was watching Maizono. He looked calm, but somebody who knew him well would see him straining to keep that smile steady.

“Seven, huh?” Enoshima was watching Maizono with hawkish eyes. “And still friends now? You two must have major history.”

“Yeah.” Naegi said that, and nothing more. Kirigiri was getting the distinct impression he regretted introducing Maizono as an childhood friend.

“Must be nice to have old friends like that,” Kamukura said casually. For all his earlier efforts to get Enoshima to move on, he seemed perfectly fine with intruding on their outing now.

“You don’t have childhood friends?” Maizono asked him.

Kamukura hesitated. “I . . .”

“Hey!” Enoshima slapped him on the back of his head. “This is supposed to be a fun day. Don’t ruin everyone’s mood by talking about that. So, what about you, Kirigiri-san? Any childhood crushes?”

“Nothing worth discussing,” she said.

Kamukura had caught onto the awkwardness and was wearing an appropriate expression, but Enoshima hadn’t. That, or she had and _thrived_ in it. Maizono subtly tried to goad the two into leaving, but Enoshima brushed off both attempts and if anything, sunk deeper into her seat.

“I bet you two were super popular in school,” Enoshima said to Naegi and Maizono. She turned to Kirigiri. “And you . . . oh.”

That was a pretty pathetic attempt at bullying. It was something that a grade school student would try. She and Maizono locked eyes, and shared a mental eyeroll.

Naegi’s glass slammed onto the table.

“What does that mean?” Naegi snapped. “What are you trying to say?”

Over Kamukura’s groan, Enoshima said, “Just that your girlfriend doesn’t seem like she was the popular cheerleader type.”

“That’s not what you meant, and you know it!”

Now, Kirigiri wanted to groan, too. The bait was _so obvious_. But Naegi, sweet little Naegi who led with his heart and would never understand the art of cruelty, didn’t know or – equally likely – didn’t care. He pushed his glass aside, as if wanting to clear the way in case he had to leap across the table and throttle his foe.

“I’m just saying, you’re here with your childhood friend. Where’s hers?” Enoshima sneered.

“We went to different schools. They’re in different friend groups,” Naegi said coldly. “Besides, there’s no rule saying we have to hang out with all our friends at the same time.”

Enoshima leaned back. Her head rolled on her neck to face Kirigiri. “ _Really_? What kind of friends were those? Imaginary?”

“She -!”

Naegi always got a certain look when an idea struck him; it would fill him from the bottom up, making his eyebrows lift and his mouth drop open. He had hunched over the table before, leaning towards Enoshima as he fought with her, but he straightened up now. She could see him take a mental step back from the conversation, re-watch it through cool, analytical eyes.

“She has friends,” was all he said.

“. . . I see.” Kirigiri picked up on the displeasure in Enoshima’s voice.

Maizono spoke up. “Kirigiri-san may not be a childhood friend of mine, but she is still my friend. This was supposed to be a _private_ outing between the three of us.”

Enoshima smiled emotionlessly. Even when Kamukura grabbed her arm and whispered into her ear, that smile remained. At least until Kamukura was near the end of his statement. The two of them looked at each other, then rose.

“Looks like it’s time for us to go. Great conversation!” She waggled her fingers at Naegi in a disgusting flirtatious wave. “See you back at Hope’s Peak.”

Enoshima walked off, but Kamukura lingered. He said to them, “I’m really sorry about –”

“ _Kamu-kamu!”_

Kamukura sighed. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Then they were both gone. Silence lingered in their wake as the three of them waited to see if they would return. Then, Maizono leaned towards them, looking around first as if they were spies in an old movie.

“They have something to do with your case, right? That’s why I gave them a fake name.”

“How did you know?” Naegi asked nervously.

“You got that adorable deer-in-the-headlights look when you saw them. You know what I mean, right Kirigiri-san?”

“I certainly do.” To Naegi, she said, “You need to work on your poker face.”

“Sorry. Uh, Sayaka, can I speak to Kyoko privately for a minute?”

“Go ahead,” Maizono said. “Solving murders is more important than coffee.”

Naegi stood, and Kirigiri followed him. There wasn’t much around that offered privacy, so they settled for walking down the street a little from the café.

“Those things about Enoshima accusing you of not having any friends, it came out of nowhere, didn’t it?” he asked her.

“Bullies don’t need a reason to act the way they do,” Kirigiri said.

“No, that’s not it. We haven’t known her that long, but Enoshima doesn’t strike me as someone that petty. There was a purpose behind that, and I have a theory about what it is. I think it’s the same reason they know so much about us: Saihara-kun.”

She blinked. “Explain.”

“We know Saihara-kun crossed them in the past, and he upset them enough that he fears for his safety. He’s also the person I was about to bring up when Enoshima started goading you. If he really got that close to unmasking them, it would make sense that they would keep tabs on him. Maybe that’s why they know so much about us. We assumed it had to do with this case, but maybe it’s really because you’re good friends with someone they were already watching closely.

That was . . . that was completely logical. And she’d never considered it. Normally, that would upset her but with Naegi, it only made her proud. She let him know her opinion, and they headed back to the café together. She had to say, having an answer like that relieved her, because it was a straight-forward answer to an otherwise frustrating case.

Maizono wasn’t looking for them when they returned. Instead, she was watching a scuffle nearby. Without looking, Kirigiri knew it was a police matter because Officer Ishimaru’s voice was notorious for how far it carried. Meanwhile, that other voice was . . .

“G-guy, I’ll be right back!” Naegi said, already dashing away. “Hagakure-kun!”

Kirigiri turned back to the table. “So, _Yuri_ , how’s your lunch?”

“Quite good! I’m glad we came here.” Maizono smiled mischievously. “Is this going to be my new nickname?”

“Not at all. However, I did want to ask you a question. Why did you lie about the age that you met Makoto?”

Maizono chewed on her mouthful of sandwich. To Kirigiri, it seemed like a way to buy time.

Maizono swallowed, and said, “I can’t give you a real reason. It was intuition. I felt like she was looking for something.”

“I can’t imagine what that would be. Nothing important happened when he was young.” She choked suddenly as she realized what she had just said. “Apart from his father, I mean. But why would Enoshima care about that?”

“. . . Like I said, I can’t give you an answer.”

They ate in silence, but not for long.

“I’m back!” Naegi said. A bit of sweat dotted his forehead.

“What did you have to do this time?” Maizono demanded. For whatever reason, Maizono seemed fascinated by Naegi’s tales of Hagakure’s antics.

“I just told him the police station wasn’t heated by radiators.” He smirked at their silent question. “See, radiator shares the same root word as radiation, and everyone knows radiation is bad. Thus, _clearly_ the radiators they sell for our homes are bombs planted by aliens who are going to blow them up once they invade earth – they obviously called them radiators to mock how clueless we are. But, since the police station doesn’t have any, I told him he could come by when that happens, and we’ll protect him.”

Hagakure honestly seemed to get stupider every time she saw him.

They finished up, and Maizono kindly drove them to the mechanic that had repaired their car. Soda Kazuichi, best mechanic in the area, was standing in the front yard of his lot, wiping grease off a wrench with a cloth. He looked up as Maizono’s car rolled up, and but the time Kirigiri climbed out of the car, was standing in front of the driver’s window

“Guess it was no good, huh?” Soda said to her. “That sucks. I really thought I got it working again.”

“Huh? Oh, does that mean you couldn’t fix the car?” Naegi asked.

Soda looked at him, puzzled. To Kirigiri, he said, “You didn’t tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

Soda scratched his head with the wrench. “Well, I mean you got a friend to drive you here, so that means the engine didn’t last very long, right?”

“Why would I know that?” she said. “We’re here to pick our car up.”

Soda’s puzzled look returned. “What are you talking about? You picked it up yesterday.”

What.

“That’s impossible,” she blurted out.

“Nah, you picked it up yesterday at . . . Uh, hold on . . .” Soda flipped through a notepad. “Yeah, I got you marked down as picking it up at four twelve.”

“You’re mistaken,” she said.

“H-hey! You trying to say I’m crazy?!” Soda gashed his teeth together. “There ain’t many people with purple hair around. I know that was you! You gave me the money and everything.”

“I don’t know who you were talking to, but that wasn’t me,” she hissed, voice rising.

Soda stumbled over his words for a full ten seconds, resulting in nothing but nonsense. Finally, he seemed to give up and waved them forward. He stomped into his dirty excuse of an office, and rifled through a file cabinet.

“Here!” He thrust a paper into her face. “See! You signed off on it.”

She peeled the paper off her face and examined it. It was a typical receipt and . . . well, that was the thing. It was perfectly ordinary. Nothing stuck out as forged. Even the signature looked like hers. Yet it couldn’t be.

She looked back at Naegi. “Someone impersonated me. Looks like we’ll be adding another charge . . .”

“You can’t arrest me!” Soda cried. “That’s not fair. I did exactly what I was supposed to do.”

She tried to say something – mainly that she wasn’t arresting him – but Soda’s wailing drowned her out and before she knew it, he locked himself in his office.

“Kirigiri-san . . .?” Maizono trailed off in the middle of her question.

“I didn’t think he was that much of an idiot,” Kirigiri grumbled, staring at the locked door.

“Uh, Kyoko?” Naegi looked up from his cellphone. “I just checked our bank account. There was a withdrawal yesterday for the exact amount listed on that bill.”

Kirigiri stared at him.

She said, “Maizono-san, can you drive us to Hope’s Peak Church? I want to speak to Togami-kun as soon as possible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Ikusaba and Kirigiri clash.


	16. Chapter 16

“I can call the bank and see if we can determine where that withdrawal took place, but I can’t promise anything,” Togami said. “You know how hard tracing digital crime can be.”

She did, and she was _very_ unhappy about it. The last thing they needed to deal with was identity theft.

“I don’t have anything good to report,” Togami said. “The search in the forest came up empty.”

“What about the cavern?”

He checked around them, before moving backwards. She followed him, and they ended up huddled in a corner where nobody could sneak up on them.

“I looked exactly where you told me. Nothing.”

“So, it’s just water.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Togami looked down his nose at her. It would have insulted her if that wasn’t his normal behaviour. “I couldn’t find the passageway.”

She gave him a look. “It’s quite difficult to miss.”

Voice dripping with sarcasm, Togami said, “Then why don’t you show me, miss ultimate detective?”

She scanned the area. Naegi was off with Ishimaru, inquiring about Owada’s status. Komaeda was on the chancel, studying the mural on the wall behind it. Shinguji was standing off to the side, watching everyone, but Yonaga was approaching him; in other words, a walking distraction was on the way. Enoshima appeared to be pestering Asahina and Oogami, while an exasperated Kamukura looked on. Yes, they could afford to sneak off now.

The two of them slipped away from the others. She scanned the room one last time, and then ushered Togami into the confessional. They could barely fit in there together without bumping the walls; she’d been in the booth before with Naegi, but Naegi was smaller than Togami. The space issue only got worse when she reached down. Togami was flat against the door when she hooked her fingers under the seat’s lid and pulled.

A second passed. Then another.

Nothing happened.

She adjusted her grip and pulled again. The seat stayed in place. Behind her, Togami coughed, as if impatient.

“There must be a lock.” She went on her knees and searched for one.

“And you think I didn’t come to the same conclusion and look myself?” Togami demanded.

She shrugged him off. “You must have missed it.”

She regretted her statement soon after because she didn’t find one either. Fine. The lock must be on the interior, or it operated remotely, like a car door. She took her time dusting her gloves off, daring Togami to say anything. Likely, only his own failure at locating the lock kept him silent.

They exited the confessional and –

“Ah, Kirigiri-san!” Komaeda said. He gave them a friendly wave even as he blocked them from leaving. “I was worried when I didn’t see you this morning.”

She didn’t want to greet him, but he was here in front of her, and he had already made the first move. “Hello, Komaeda-kun.”

She waited for him to move. He didn’t. Instead, he did the opposite and grew unnaturally still. Even when he tilted his head and glanced from her to Togami and back, that unnatural stillness remained.

“That is a very private place to meet with your boss,” Komaeda said mildly. “You should be careful. Others might get the wrong impression.”

Togami shuffled away from her, but Kirigiri held her ground.

“Or,” Komaeda’s eyes twinkled, “were you two looking to confess? For you, Kirigiri-san, I’m always willing to listen.”

“Can you move?” she asked pointedly.

Komaeda bent a little at the waist in a mocking bow before stepping aside. It was a struggle not to shoulder him as she passed. She could feel his gaze on her, burning a hole into the small of her back. She approached Naegi. Quickly, she pulled him aside and filled him in on what happened.

“Strange, but it would make sense for them to lock it once they saw all those police cars pulling up,” Naegi said. “I’m surprised they left it open while we were around, though.”

That was an excellent point. There were a couple of explanations. One, Komaeda hadn’t believed they would discover the passage; that would suggest that they currently knew it had been compromised, and took measures to protect themselves. The other explanation was that someone wanted it found. That seemed unrealistic, but there was also the fact that she had found Nanami Chiaki’s body in the open. There was some underlying plot here, but she didn’t know what.

For now, she would focus on the first option. If someone had noticed she had disappeared for a long time and had seen her either enter or exit the confessional, the dots were easy to put together. The other option was that there was hidden surveillance on the confessional and someone had watched her from afar.

She really needed to investigate Komaeda’s room, to see if he had cameras.

Naegi said something about getting them tea, which she agreed to. She looked over the territory as he walked off, checking for any incoming conflict. It would be unprofessional of the department to pick a fight, but they were pairing hotheads like Asahina with instigators like Enoshima, not to mention Togami’s ego could be unbearably fragile, sometimes. It looked everyone was doing okay, though. The only interesting thing was Mukuro – and only because Kirigiri actually saw her this time – slinking towards the kitchen and . . .

Really?

She did not have time for this.

She followed Mukuro into the kitchen, who had not so long ago followed _Naegi_ into the kitchen. If she didn’t know Naegi, his proximity to Ikusaba might have disturbed her. If she wasn’t hardened against emotions, she might have gotten angry anyways. But in her detached state, she noted that even though Naegi was less than an arm’s length away from Ikusaba and was holding her hand, he was simply treating her with the same touchy-feely attention he gave all his friends. She doubted Ikusaba knew that though. Kirigiri could only see Ikusaba’s back, but that was enough to see her nervous fidgeting, the way she both leaned towards Naegi and curled away from him, wanting to be close but knowing she shouldn’t be.

“. . . and honestly, there’s nothing special about me,” Naegi was saying. “I’m just your average guy, though everyone says I’m optimistic. Oh, and unlucky, too!”

“Junko-chan says you’re not unlucky,” Ikusaba mumbled. “She says you’re clumsy.”

Naegi laughed. “Yeah, I’m clumsy, too.”

“But if you say you’re nothing special right now. . . Does that mean there’s hope for me? I might . . . I could be like Junko-chan, too?”

Kirigiri wasn’t even sure how Ikusaba found the space to take another step forward, but she did. They were so close that Naegi himself shifted back to avoid straining his neck when he stared up at her.

“Ikusaba-san, you shouldn’t compare yourself to your sister like that,” Naegi said firmly, shaking his finger like a father lecturing their child. “You and Enoshima-san are different people. It doesn’t matter if you can’t do something she can. You’re just as important as her.”

“. . . Junko-chan says thinking that is stupid,” Ikusaba said flatly.

“This has nothing to do with her. This is about _you_.”

Kirigiri knew exactly what was going to happen. For those who barely knew Naegi, there was only one way to interpret that passionate exclamation, that intensity with which he stared into your eyes. Oh, Naegi. Her adorable little heartbreaker. Sometimes she just wanted to walk up and squeeze the life out of him.

Sure enough, Mukuro flushed red and couldn’t get her words out. Kirigiri let her savour the moment for four, five seconds. Then she loudly cleared her throat.

Naegi visibly lit up when he saw her, and then happily trotted to her side without a second’s hesitation. Poor Ikusaba must have looked like a child witnessing a magician’s disappearing trick for the first time. Kirigiri almost wished she could see the other woman’s face.

“I thought you were getting tea,” she said to Naegi.

“I was. Uh, it’s just that I got distracted. Ikusaba-san had a question and . . .”

He was blathering, sensing that he was somehow in trouble, but not sure how. He was wrong though; _Naegi_ wasn’t in trouble. She dismissed him, telling him to go ahead and prepare the tea. For some reason, Ikusaba stuttered at that and made to go after him. But Kirigiri stepped in her way. She expected Ikusaba to crash into her, but the other woman stopped so suddenly it was abnormal.

“He’s supposed to . . . I should get Nagito . . .” Ikusaba mumbled.

“Makoto and I have been dating for years,” Kirigiri said quietly. “You only know him because he suspects you may be involved with a murder. Don’t waste our time with this.”

She tried to end it there. She wanted it to end before Naegi could overhear, but Ikusaba wasn’t budging. The woman said, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does,” Kirigiri said. “A bond grows with time. How can the bond of friends who have only known each other for days compare to friends who heve known each other for decades?”

“If all that matters is how long you knew each other, then he isn’t yours either.”

“Then whom should he belong to?” Kirigiri asked, raising her eyebrows. “If any of his other friends were interested, they should have made a move long before I did. It wouldn’t be fair to make him wait just because they were cowards.”

“He’s not yours,” Ikusaba said stubbornly, almost insulted.

Kirigiri studied what she saw there. It was odd. Despite her shy, soft-spoken demeanour, Ikusaba had a backbone of steel. Hope’s Peak had made her into a tame bear dressed up in cute circus clothes, made to perform tricks for a pat on the head. But even the laziest bear was several times stronger than a human, and Kirigiri found herself asking why Hope’s Peak kept Ikusaba around.

“Hey, guys. I got the tea.” Naegi came back, balancing three cups. Kirigiri hurriedly took hers before he dropped them all.

 “I should go,” Ikusaba said. Without waiting for a reply, she spun around on her heel and marched towards the door. Kirigiri watched Ikusaba and the way she moved. That steady, stiff gait, it reminded her of . . . She remembered how Ikusaba had claimed she was the _best_ at guard duty.

Kirigiri plucked a paper towel roll from the counter and walked up behind Ikusaba. She tapped her on the shoulder.

As Ikusaba started to turn, she swung.

She never expected to make contact. She had expected Ikusaba to respond. But she hadn’t expected _this_. Though Kirigiri preferred to keep her hands clean, she had been training to fight since she was a little girl. She was no slouch at combat. Which meant she should have seen it coming. She should have predicted Ikusaba’s reaction, even if she didn’t have time to block it. She should not be on one knee, an arm out to prevent herself from falling onto her side as Ikusaba held her wrist in a vice grip.

“HEY!” Naegi thundered forward. “Break it up!”

Naegi was no Owada. Even when he shouted, his voice didn’t pack the punch of his fellow officers. Yet, the reaction was immediate. Ikusaba dropped Kirigiri and turned to face him, heels clicking together. It almost looked like she was going to salute.

“Kyoko!” He grabbed her tender wrist – too tight! – and helped her to her feet. She shook him off afterwards and resisted the urge to rub it; no point in showing weakness in front of the suspect.

“You attacked me,” Ikusaba said.

“I would hardly call being hit with a paper towels an attack.”

Ikusaba said nothing. She watched Naegi, as if waiting for something. When that something didn’t come, Ikusaba left.

“She’s trained,” Kirigiri said. “She’s likely an enforcer for –”

“Kyoko, what was that?” Naegi demanded, anger simmering under his tone. “Do you remember how everyone’s been telling us how this case is _dangerous_?”

“I can take care of myself.”

He scowled. “Right. Because getting taken down in a second was really taking care of yourself. Look, you’ve walked into dark, creepy places without telling anyone, and now you’re attacking people you suspect to be hitmen. Can you please be a little more careful?”

“I made sure you were with me, didn’t I?”

That mollified him a little, but not much. “You know I’m not helpful in a fight. Plus, you would have done that even if I wasn’t.”

“The rest of the department is right outside,” Kirigiri pointed out. “Even if it had gotten violent, she wouldn’t have gotten away with it.”

“Okay, but you don’t need to sacrifice yourself for this case,” Naegi said. “I know you can’t resist pursing every lead you see, but I’m asking you to be more cautious.”

She didn’t agree – no point in lying to him. She patted him on the head and walked out of the kitchen. While that hadn’t quite gone the way she had expected, it still got her the results she craved. Her suspicion that Ikusaba was secretly dangerous was confirmed. Plus, Ikusaba was hopefully so embarrassed she wouldn’t approach Naegi again.

The scene outside the kitchen looked no different than when she had chased after Naegi. It sounded different though; it appeared Yonaga had brought something out to show, and Asahina was squealing over it. Naegi wandered over to check it out, leaving Kirigiri alone –

“Why?”

She was spinning around before that word finished, because _how had Ikusaba gotten behind her?_ The woman blinked, as if surprised by Kirigiri’s reaction.

“In the kitchen, why did you do that?” Ikusaba asked again.

Kirigiri flipped her hair. “That’s confidential.”

Ikusaba said nothing. She glanced past Kirigiri to where everyone else was, then locked onto the metaphorical target that was Kirigiri’s face.

“I don’t know why Komaeda-kun’s so happy with you.” Ikusaba spoke with a low growl, akin to the rattling of a snake before it struck.

“What has Komaeda been telling everyone?” Kirigiri said. “That I’m the next one who’s going to be standing in that bucket of water?”

There it was: the wolf behind that loyal mutt disguise. She suspected that only the presence of the others kept Ikusaba from lunging for her throat.

“Komaeda-kun shouldn’t keep you,” Ikusaba muttered. “He should leave you behind with the rest.”

“I hope he does.”

She had to admit that Ikusaba had a good poker face. Ikusaba almost walked past her, but she stopped when they were shoulder to shoulder.

“Naegi-kun isn’t yours. I know I’m not important enough for him, but . . . I’m still Junko-chan’s sister. You’re worth even less than me.”

“Whatever you say,” Kirigiri said.

This time, Kirigiri walked off. It wasn’t a surrender though; oh no, it was the complete opposite. She joined Naegi, slid her arm around his waist and rested her head on her shoulder. She glanced back at Ikusaba and held her gaze.

* * *

The blow-dryer hummed as the comb passed through her hair. Each freshly washed strand glistened. Kirigiri was by no means a vain person, but she couldn’t deny that criminals – especially arrogant ones – tended to be more loose-lipped when faced with pretty girls. Hence, even for someone as unconcerned with ‘girly’ things as her, it was still important to look good. She studied herself in the mirror. Not quite at Maizono standards, but good enough. Besides, it was only Naegi here.

(Though that was even more of a reason to look good.)

She dressed and made her way down the stairs. The house smelled faintly of pork as it roasted in the oven. Naegi’s voice came from the kitchen and old detective instincts made her stop to eavesdrop.

“No, you don’t need to worry about us. The point of my job is to get up close and personal with dangerous people. I can handle myself. But keep an eye out, okay? Let us know if you feel like anything’s wrong. I don’t see any reason why you would be in danger, but you know how I like to worry.”

Ah, that answered her unspoken question. There were three people that Naegi might contact when they were working a case he perceived to be particularly dangerous: Maizono, his mother, and Komaru. There was no need for him to contact Maizono since she had met Enoshima herself. If that had been Naegi’s mother on the phone, she would have started panicking and Naegi would be speaking much louder and quicker. That left Komaru, then. She was a very nice girl, but unlike Naegi, she was still terribly naïve.

“. . . Sayaka told you that, huh? Yeah, I am. They’re . . . they’re bad. I’m not going to lie about it. No, you don’t need to buy me a stuffed animal. No, we don’t need to have a movie night. Just. . . They haven’t been this bad since I was a kid. I don’t think you were old enough to remember that far back though. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Take care of yourself. Yep. Of course. Love you, too.”

She gave it some time before she entered the kitchen herself. Naegi looked up as she did, and immediately asked, “How much did you hear?”

Ah, he knew her well.

“Enough,” she said. “You didn’t tell me your nightmares were this bad. The medicine isn’t helping?”

“Not really.”

“You said they were worst when you were younger. Do you mean your nightmares have waned since then?”

“Yes,” he said. “They got less intense as the years went by.”

“Makoto, this is something I’ve suspected for a long time: have you ever considered that there may be a trigger to these episodes? That something in your childhood –”

“Kyoko, stop,” he said firmly. “It’s fine. It’s not going to interfere with the case.”

“Not everything is about the case.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Sorry. Just . . . It was a long time ago. And therapy didn’t do anything so . . .”

She stared at him. “You attended therapy?”

He hesitated. “My mom was just being an overprotective parent.”

There was an implied dismissal there. She didn’t understand how, but she knew she had strayed over some invisible line. She nodded to acknowledge his excuse, then stood, intending to leave and give him space.

She walked into the foyer. Some letters had slid through the mail slot. She shuffled through them quickly. Coupons, advertisements . . . him again? She turned the letter around so she didn’t have to see that _name_. Honestly, looking for her father had been the biggest mistake of her life. Sure, she had found him and told him she wanted nothing to do with him, just as she had planned. Her father lacked basic social skills however, as he kept sending her letters that she had no intention of reading. She wasn’t even sure how he found her address –

What was that?

There was no thought. Years of training jumped in. She snatched an umbrella from its holder in case she needed to defend herself. Calling Naegi for assistance didn’t even occur. Her breathing stilled. She waited.

Nothing. She had been braced for a kick to smash through the door, especially when she saw the shadow right beyond it. She reached with the umbrella, and pushed aside the curtain that always blocked the window. With her other hand, she took her cellphone out of her pocket and held it so she could outside. Nothing unusual.

She glanced out the window in person, then ripped the front door open and planted herself in the center. Nothing. It was always slightly irritating when she acted this way and no one was there, but she supposed it was better than terrifying the poor delivery person again.

She stepped outside and examined the yard. Surprisingly, there were footprints, proving she had indeed seen someone. She followed them to the sidewalk, but there they vanished and was no telling the intent of their visitor. Whomever it was, they were gone by now.

She walked back to the house. Except she didn’t make it. Because right when she turned, she saw it: part of the front door had turned white. It wasn’t a random bleaching though, or the result of a splash. This was very, very deliberate, forming a distinct shape. It looked like a leaf, with one center stem and five branches placed at regular intervals.

It was certainly just paint, but paranoia won out anyways. She walked over to the neighbour’s shrub, and snapped off a twig. It came with a couple of leaves that jiggled as she poked the door.

It was already dry. Spray paint, then. She dug the twig in and tried to chip the paint, but it wasn’t budging. They didn’t have anything on hand to remove paint _and_ they were missing a car to get to the hardware store.

This just wasn’t their week. She tossed the twig aside –

Hold on.

She looked at the symbol again, really looked at it.

Her eyes widened.

She went back into the house, careful not to touch the white spots on the door, and went straight for the case file. She shuffled through the papers until the proof was in her hand.

Yes, her suspicion was correct. The color was white instead of black, but that symbol on the door matched one of the sigils found on Nanami Chiaki’s body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> (Phase II begins)  
> Naegi offers his perspective on his father.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost a couple of weeks after Christmas. That means those who got DRV3 for Christmas have probably played it by now. There will still be no V3 spoilers in this story but lurkers beware, **I am now willing to discuss DRV3 spoilers in the comments.**

The lines were blurring. She supposed that was what happened when you spent hours trying to read a book you didn’t understand, especially in the morning. Kirigiri set her copy of Hope’s Peak’s scripture down and rubbed her eyes. She needed a coffee.

While the water was brewing, the front door opened. Naegi tromped into the kitchen, dropping a suds-filled bucket by the table. He shed his thick gloves and scruffy sweater, his reedy bird-like body shivering afterwards on instinct.

“It’s not coming off,” he said. “It might be bleach instead of paint.”

Great. That eyesore would greet them every time they came home. She said, “I haven’t found any traces of that symbol in this book either.”

“We can paint over it,” he said.

“Eventually, we will, but not let’s worry too much about it for now. I want to attend today’s sermon.”

“Kyoko, no! Don’t tell me . . .” Naegi flopped backwards onto the table, like an overdramatic actor swooning in a scene. “You’ve taken up Komaeda’s offer to join the church!”

“That is a thought so horrifying that it’s not funny.” It really was. She mentally cringed from even saying the words in her head.

He grinned up at her. “But Kyoko, how else will we get the great Atua to approve of our relationship?”

“If he has a problem with it, he can come down and tell me,” she shot back. “If Komaeda is busy hosting a sermon, it will be an excellent time for me to proceed with my investigation.”

“You mean you’re going to break into his room.” Naegi’s face fell. “I knew you were building towards that. I’m not sure I like you sneaking into his room, but there’s no way for me to talk you out of it.”

“Correct.” She tossed him a bagel. “Put on the habit. We don’t want any questions from the congregation.”

Ten minutes later, they were in a taxi. They could have taken the bus again, but honestly, that trip was very long. This cut the transit time in half. Naegi was snoozing on her shoulder, never having been much of an early bird. Kirigiri was bleary-eyed too, mostly because she had been up since five going through that scripture.

When they arrived, the parking lot was nearly empty. When they threw open the church doors however, a mass of people sprawled out before them. Not a loud mass. A quiet one, where the whispers were like the hum of a passing truck. Was that normal? She wouldn’t know.

“Naegi-kun? Kirigiri-san!” Komaeda walked towards them. He smiled widely. “I wasn’t sure if I would see you two today. Ah, you even got him in uniform.”

“Well, we were curious, you know,” Naegi said awkwardly.

“Oh, yes,” Komaeda said cheerfully. “I’m sure this has nothing to do with the case at all!”

“There’s no need for theatrics,” Kirigiri said. “We’re here to observe your clients. We still haven’t ruled them out as the culprits.”

Shortly after, she threw Naegi into the fray. As Komaeda headed to claim his spot on the chancel, Naegi slowly waded into the nave. The others, they didn’t shun him, but they didn’t confront him. Instead, they parted when they noticed him. They didn’t look him in the face either; if they did bother to look his way, their eyes lingered on the rosary’s deep blue gemstone that haughtily sat on his chest.

 “You’re here?”

Kirigiri looked. Enoshima stared at her, looking puzzled.

“Well, look at Miss Overachiever here,” Enoshima said. “Nobody seriously expected you two to show up today. Guess that’s why he’s fond of you.”

“My work doesn’t stop just because you decided to hold a sermon.”

Enoshima said, “This is definitely why Nagito likes you. Wish my guys had that devotion.”

She ignored Enoshima and turned towards the nave.

She waited ten minutes after the sermon started, just in case someone was running late, and to make sure Naegi didn’t immediately have swamp water dumped on him again. At the ten-minute mark, she headed upstairs towards the fourth floor. She’d been told the bedrooms were there, guarded by a locked foor. She whipped out her lockpicking tools, grabbed the doorknob for balance and –

It turned.

Had that . . .? Seriously? The day she decided to break in, they left the door unlocked?

She hated these people.

She opened the door. A dark, narrow hallway stretched out before her, lined with doors. Helpfully, each had a nameplate, and Komaeda’s happened to be the first one on the left. This doorknob also turned easily.

It was an ugly, small room. Concrete walls and floor. No posters or pictures. A single light up above. It looked like a school dorm. The furniture likewise looked stiff and heavy, but was more interesting. Komaeda’s bed had no legs. It sat on the ground with a bowl-like shape. Multiple blankets, shoved aside to the edges, fit along the bed’s curves. A desk was nearby, as was a small filing cabinet. She ripped that open and grabbed the first file she saw, only to discover to her _great_ displeasure that it was in the same foreign language that the scripture was. She snapped a picture anyways.

She opened the desk drawers and found a small stack of dated maps joined by an elastic band. They appeared to be of the immediate area – so mostly trees. There were red marks on them, however, and on the latest one, a red circle had its circumference in the middle of the woods. She couldn’t be sure, but by estimating the distance, she thought the red circle aligned with the powdery white circle she and Naegi had found.

In the second drawer, there was a second map. This one had no marks on the map itself, but on the blank back, there was writing she couldn’t read. This map was of a town, and she immediately recognized it.

The victim had lived in this town.

Well, wasn’t that interesting? She snapped pictures and carefully put everything back.

There wasn’t much else to look at. That struck her as odd because . . . Oh, she understood what it was. There were no clothes or personal belongings. She checked under the bed again to be sure. No clothes. No closet. Did he seriously wear that same outfit day after day?

The next room she checked was Yonaga Angie’s. If she had a word for Yonaga’s room, it was cluttered. Drops of paint were all over the floor and walls and somehow, she’d even gotten a few on the ceiling. A small desk covered with wooden carving hid in the corner, and the space around it had a carpet of wood shavings. Yonaga didn’t have wallpaper; instead, she had a collection of nonsensical paintings lining her walls. These paintings seemed similar – as similar as abstract art could be – to the half-finished product on the easel in the center of the room. At the very back, perched at the foot of the (normal) bed, there was a stone statue bigger than Kirigiri was. It was complex, exceedingly so. So much in fact that Kirigiri found herself unable to look at it straight-on; instead, she squinted at it with a single eye, peeking through two fingers as her hand covered the rest of her face. The statue . . . what was it? A serpent? A kraken? A bear? Those looked like tentacles, but where did they come from? Was that a mane of them? That huge hollow filled with crags and needles, was that supposed to be a mouth?

She jerked into awareness. This statue . . . Yes. Unless it had been used as the murder weapon, it was irrelevant to the case. She glanced around the room – nearly falling over when her balance suddenly seemed to have shifted. There were quite a few tools in here, but none of them would have inflicted the wound found on Nanami Chiaki’s body.

Her phone rang.

She picked up. “Yes?”

“Hey, I just wanted to let you know the sermon’s done.”

“Already? That’s exceptionally short.”

“. . . What are you talking about? I’ve been listening to him for _hours!_ You have no idea how bored I am.”

Taken off-guard, she checked her phone. One in the afternoon? She. . . She’d taken that long?

“Where are you right now?” she asked.

“The confessional,” Naegi said. “Figured it was a good way to make sure I didn’t attract attention by calling you.”

Before she could answer, there was a laugh.

“Oh, that’s what you were doing. I have to say: that was clever!”

Naegi’s raspy voice said the word echoing through her skull.

“Komaeda-kun? You . . . you were on the other side the entire time?”

“I sure was! When I saw you duck in here, I thought you were going to make a confession,” Komaeda said. (Did Naegi turn on speakerphone, because Komaeda was louder than expected?) “It’s not too late for that.”

“I’m not confessing anything,” Naegi grumbled.

“Is that so? Are you sure? The Elders are listening. Now’s the perfect time to speak to them.”

“I don’t have anything to confess.”

If the sermon was over, she better move. She backed out of Yonaga’s room.

“No? Naegi-kun, haven’t you studied religion at all? Don’t all of them say that humans are sinful by nature? Sneaking off to speak with your girlfriend . . . that seems like it has something to do with lust.”

Kirigiri winced. She hated hearing that word come from Komaeda’s mouth.

“What would your father say if he heard you were sneaking into confessionals to have secret conversations with your girlfriend?”

Silence followed.

“Walk out,” Kirigiri suggested to him. “You don’t need to speak to him. You don’t owe him anything.”

Naegi didn’t answer. She didn’t know why until she realized Komaeda had still been speaking. The pastor’s voice had simply been so soft (yet still somehow clear) that it had sounded like ambient noise.

Komaeda said, “It always comes down to family, doesn’t it? No other trauma hits as deep. You don’t choose them, they didn’t necessarily choose you. But you’ll always be connected to them by blood, and that makes it so much harder to deal with than a wayward friend or disloyal spouse.”

She shut Yonaga’s door behind her.

“You don’t have to be alone in this.” (For a moment, her vision blurred and her ears rang.) “The ones who raised me are dead. Ikusaba-san’s father died when she was young, and her mother had to leave her at the hospital. And just think about poor Yonaga-san. We understand, Naegi-kun.”

So, most of them were orphans? That wasn’t too suspicious. Churches had a history of charities. She was about to head toward the stairs, when she happened to see the nameplate with Enoshima’s name.

“Who was it, Naegi-kun?”

She wasn’t sure what happened. She had been creeping up to Enoshima’s room, when her body jumped as if someone had yanked on her spine like a string. She barely kept herself quiet, barely kept Komaeda from hearing her. But it meant she couldn’t warn Naegi before he answered.

“. . . My father.”

“I see. That is difficult, isn’t it?”

“You don’t even know what happened. It’s not like you; my dad didn’t die. He _left_ us. He abandoned his wife and two kids. . . Who does that to a five-year-old? Who does that to their two-year-old daughter? I took out a newspaper ad once asking him to call me and do you know what happened? I dealt with an entire week of prank calls and nothing from him. He just left us all behind and he doesn’t even care! Even Jin sends us letters all the time!”

Her heart thumped loudly, as if worried its host wasn’t listening to this conversation. (Naegi bringing up her father smarted more than she liked.) Enoshima would have to wait. She needed to get downstairs.

“I can see why that would upset you,” Komaeda’s honeyed voice said. “That man was supposed to watch over you until the end. Instead, he turned on you and broke a blood contract. That would make anyone angry.”

She opened the staircase door and peeked inside.

“I know you’re trying to help, but this isn’t helping. I’ve had enough.” Naegi said. There was rustling on the other side, presumably as he stood. “Where’s the lock on this thing?”

Her first step echoed down the winding stairs.

“Naegi-kun, relax. That man hurt you. Family is always important to ones like us, so to believe you’ve endured such a betrayal. . . I know that day haunts you.”

“I said that was enough. Why isn’t this opening?”

She heard his fists slam against the door. Again and again. He was panting, emoting in a way that worried her. She interjected, keeping her voice steady, willing him to hear her and soothe his nerves.

He didn’t appear to hear her. By going by the hitch in his panting, he did hear Komaeda.

“Let me help you,” Komaeda, his voice carrying a strange echo. “Let me open your eye. I can help you find your father.”

“Stop! Stop touching . . .!”

“Makoto, breathe,” she said. “I’m on my way down. Hang tight.”

Komaeda’s voice dropped an octave. “What do you see, Naegi Makoto?”

“Just ignore him,” she said. “You know he –”

 “ ** _What is_** _**that**!?_ ”

“Makoto?” she snapped into the phone. “ _Makoto?_ ”

“Naegi-kun, calm down!”

Naegi screamed.

Time slowed. She leapt down the stairs; the impact rolled through her and dissipated. The door was right ahead. It was open a crack – she tackled it open, Kamukura yelping as it nearly broke his nose. She shouldered past the body in her way; there was her destination, glowing red in her mind’s eye, visible even through the crowd. They were backing away, retreating to the side further from the confessional. She didn’t care about of them. Komaeda was the threat. Komaeda, who had exited a confessional booth and was knocking on its partner.

Komaeda shifted out of the way of her grab, leaving her fingers to painfully smack against the door. She ignored the throbbing, and hissed, “ _What did you do_?”

“Calm down . . .”

She ignored him and tried to yank the door open. Locked. She pushed her way into the other booth, letting it snap shut behind her. The screen dividing the two booths was already open, and she stuck her face in.

 “Makoto?”

She saw him.

He lay in a ball on the ground, on his elbows and knees, hands clamped over the back of his head as if suffering from a headache. Ragged, choppy breathing filled the space and something about the sound made her own fear start to rise.

“Makoto!” She tried to reach through, to touch him, but he was too low. “What’s wrong? Tell me what’s happening.”

Naegi whined. His legs kicked out behind him and writhed, dropping him onto his stomach. He was muttering something, but she couldn’t hear him.

“Makoto. Makoto, look at me!”

There was no one there but her. No one but them. Yet, his body seemed unnaturally taut, like someone was tugging on it from both sides.

She needed to reach him. Now. She left the confessional, went to the door on Naegi’s side – damn, still locked! She didn’t care if they saw her, if she revealed one of her tricks. She whipped out the lockpick kit and set to work.

The door resisted even after she unlocked it. She rammed it with her shoulder and forced it to yield. Naegi was still on the floor. His hands were no longer on his head, but limp by his side.

“Makoto!” She swooped down, one hand pulling him onto her lap, the other pressing into his pulse point. His heartbeat was there, but quick and disturbingly intense. He seemed to react to his warmth and squirmed, rubbing his cheek against her leg.

“Not real,” he muttered. “No. No, no, no.”

What the hell was this? Kirigiri had dealt with some strange and outright crazy people during her career, but nothing like this. His legs trailed on the ground as she dragged him out. She peered into the confessional, but she couldn’t find anything threatening, and this wasn’t even the one with the secret passage.

“Stand aside!” she snapped as Komaeda reached out for them. She slotted her shoulder under Naegi’s armpit and with a grunt, lifted him to his feet. It was good he was small, for he was not much more than dead weight right now. The rest of the congregation flocked to the sides as she stumbled towards the front door.

“Kirigiri-san!” Kamukura lunged forward. “Let me –”

“No! None of you touch him.” Her order left no room for argument. Alone with her burden, she trudged to the entrance, leaving silence in her wake.

They burst out of the church. She shifted Naegi, and threw him over her shoulder. She backpedalled to the road; too much of her feared that Komaeda would pursue them to let her walk normally. Naegi was twitching, jerking from side to side like a snake trying to swim. A particularly violent twitch brought her to her knees, where she laid him by the side of the road.

“Makoto!” She shook him. “Snap out of it!”

He was still giving her that stricken look, like something in his heart had shattered. But something in him responded, and his hand closed around her wrist as he babbled nonsense.

“Look at me,” she said. “You’re safe.”

Naegi’s head bobbed in what may have been a nod. A moment later, his eyes rolled back into his head.

Her phone was already on the call button.

“Hello -?”

“Meet me at the hospital.”

She hung up immediately. Seconds later, her phone rang as Togami called back. She ignored it. She needed to call an ambulance. As the dial tone rung, she removed her glove and laid it on her chest. She needed to feel it. She needed to feel it moving. She needed to know Naegi was alive. As she cradled the phone under her chin, she stroked his hair with her other hand. It seemed to settle him a little, so she kept doing that as she silently begged him to open his eyes.

She shifted him a bit, just enough to get him into the sun before she wrapped her jacket around his chest. He was displaying several signs of severe shock, but from what? A quick but thorough examination found no external wounds. What could have happened in such a small space in so little time?

He whimpered as her hand passed through his hair. He was moving now, head whipping from side to side, fingers twitching as if caught in a nightmare. A fine sheen of perspiration coated his temples, making them shiny and sleek. She tucked her jacket in around his sides, holding his arms hostage.

His breathing stilled. His eyes creaked open.

“Makoto!” She jabbed her finger into his neck. Pulse still present.

“No . . .” He choked back something, looking at her with eyes that stared through her. “Kyoko . . .”

“You’re okay.” She stroked his cheek. “I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Naegi r u okay?


	18. Chapter 18

If Togami had a portable police siren, he would have brought it with him, given the violent way he barged into the hospital’s examination room. Apparently, her call had worked him up so badly that he was breathing a little more harshly than usual, as if he had speed-walked down the hall. Good. At least some things were acting the way Kirigiri expected them to.

A moment later, she regretted that thought as Owada unexpectedly entered. The officer was in his street clothes, rumpled ones at that, as if he had gotten straight out of bed.

“I thought you gave Owada-kun some time off,” she said to Togami. It was a way to distract her defensive instincts; although Owada was an ally, they weren’t more than coworkers – not someone she would explicitly trust – and she was extremely aware of how vulnerable Naegi was in the bed behind her.

“I did. And then my best detective called me on my personal line and _yelled_ at me to come to the hospital.” The unspoken reason was that Oogami was busy.

“Fuck,” Owada muttered as he studied Naegi from the doorway. He offered no further comment.

Togami walked up to the blanket-less bed, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Judging by the pressure, he meant to push her out of the way so he could get closer, but she didn’t move. He combed through Naegi’s hair, feeling for a bump, and then ran his fingers along Naegi’s clothes in search of dried blood. If she wasn’t here guarding him, she wondered if Togami would have been bold enough to start stripping Naegi to his underwear.

“Where’s the injury?” Togami asked, correctly assuming she had checked already.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I haven’t found any evidence of what reduced him to this state.”

“None at all?” Togami stared hard at Naegi’s face, soaking in his ragged breathing, his glassy eyes and twitching lips. (At least he had stopped writhing a while ago.) “Has he been poisoned?”

“I don’t think so,” she repeated. “It wouldn’t make much sense given the timeline. I was on the phone with him when this occurred. Komaeda Nagito was goading him about his father, saying some nonsense on how he could help Makoto find him and . . . he just started screaming. By the time I reached him, he was conscious, but delirious and unresponsive.”

She went into further detail, telling him all that she knew. When she was finished, Togami had one thing to say:

“. . . This is unusual.”

She glared at him.

“Wait, what’s this shit about his father?” Owada asked. “I thought Naegi’s father–”

“Yes. He did. Makoto’s still very bitter about it.”

“Your father ran off, too, didn’t he?”

“Let’s focus on Makoto, shall we?”

Owada at least had the awareness to look guilty. “Sorry.”

“So, no one hurt him?” Togami pressed.

“Not physically,” she answered.

“In that case, you can go home, Owada. We don’t need a bodyguard.” With a little flick of his hand, Togami dismissed Owada. He didn’t even apologize for dragging him out of his house.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Yo, Kirigiri! When Naegi wakes up, tell ‘em that he better get better soon, or I’ll punch him.”

They heard Owada’s heavy steps in the hall as he left them. The attending doctor was still out of the room, so it was only her and Togami standing vigil.

“Do you have any familiarity with PTSD?” Togami asked.

“Makoto doesn’t have that,” she said, not looking away from the subject of their conversation.

“Are you sure?” Togami asked. “This did come in the wake of a discussion about his father. You said yourself that he’s not over it.”

“Abandonment doesn’t produce these kind of reactions,” she said dismissively.

“Perhaps not,” he said. “However, I do hope you’re not using yourself as a gauge. The average person isn’t an emotionless rock.”

She purposely stared at him with a blank expression.

Finally, the doctor returned, and what she had to say was not helpful in the slightest.

“I’ve done everything I could,” the doctor said, her fingers resting on Naegi’s wrist, “but I’m not finding any cause behind this. T-the toxicology report came back clean and his vitals are fine. I’m sorry! I can’t find anything.”

“You’re not suggesting this is normal, are you?” Kirigiri demanded.

“N-no! I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to say that! Please forgive me!” the doctor cried.

“There must be something you can offer us,” Togami said, arms crossed over his chest.

“Um, based on what you told me, I have one suggestion. Uh, well, it could be religious fervour,” the doctor said. “Sometimes, people get so excited at church that they are overwhelmed. It’s like a case of hysteria.”

Immediately, Kirigiri said, “He’s not religious.”

“He doesn’t have to be,” the doctor said, a tad more confident. “If he’s spiritual or imaginative enough, it could happen.”

Naegi was imaginative, but still. She couldn’t comprehend how he could _imagine_ himself into a coma-like state. She had been on the phone with him. She had heard Komaeda. Those words shouldn’t be enough to trigger a hallucination.

But it was still the best lead she had. “What should I do?”

“There’s not much you can do but wait,” the doctor said. “Maybe he should stay here under observation. . .”

And as luck would have it, at that moment, Naegi began to stir.

She didn’t shoulder Doctor Tsumiki out of the way. Tsumiki just happened to be blocking her path to Naegi’s side, that was all. His breathing slowly settled as his eyes struggled to open and remain that way.

 _Water,_ he mouthed.

Somehow, she managed to convince Togami to get him a glass. While he was gone, Tsumiki piped up. “S-see? He’s waking up. It was probably just hysteria . . . I’m sorry! Don’t hate me!”

They kept him in the examination room for twenty minutes longer. In that time, she fed him a glass of water, which he sucked down greedily. However, she knew by looking at him that walking by himself was out of the question. Soon enough though, Tsumiki was confident enough to (shakily) announce that he could be discharged. Privately, that relieved her. Kirigiri had a personal dislike of overnight stays in hospitals. It was nothing about the competence of the employees there, but she wasn’t confident in their security and unlike her room, she didn’t have a gun in the nightstand.

They ferried Naegi outside to Togami’s car. It was when Naegi was safely in the backseat and Kirigiri and Togami were about to climb inside, that she heard the voice.

“Yoo-hoo! Kirigiri-san!”

She stepped away from the car, giving herself room in case she had to move quickly. “Yonaga-san, what are you doing here?”

“I brought you these! It’s on behalf of everyone at Hope’s Peak.”

Kirigiri stared at the bouquet of flowers. She didn’t take them. Her eyes trailed down the stems, snagging on the _Get Well!_ card sticking out.

“We don’t want them,” she said bluntly.

Yonaga kept smiling and thrust the flowers at her. “We really mean it! Komaeda-kun didn’t expect that reaction. He would have given them to you himself, but he didn’t think it was a good idea for Naegi-kun to see him again so soon.”

“Was this his suggestion?”

“Yep! Pretty neat, right?”

That arrogant bastard. She remembered their first meeting vividly, how he had chuckled when talking about their mutual family history. Now, here he was, delivering a _Get-Well_ card after triggering this incident in the first place. She could easily imagine him in his excuse of a room, giggling to himself about how clever he was.

“I’m not taking them,” she said.

Yonaga lowered the flowers. “Okay, I guess that’s fine this time. But you should be careful about angering them, especially Komaeda-kun.”

“And why is that?” Togami demanded. He stood beside Kirigiri and together, they towered over the priestess.

Yonaga giggled. “Kirigiri-san knows!”

“I really don’t.”

Yonaga blinked slowly. “Maybe not yet.”

Was that a threat? Honestly, she wasn’t sure. If Enoshima or Komaeda had said that, she would have thought so. But Yonaga? Last time Yonaga had threatened her, it hadn’t been subtle at all.

Without a certain answer, she let it be. Following her cue, Togami did as well. That left Yonaga to skip off, still clutching her rejected gift of flowers.

* * *

An hour later, Naegi was safely home and in his bed. She wasn’t sure exactly how long it took for him to start moving, but it didn’t feel like long to her.

“Kyoko. . .?” he rasped. His voice was hoarse and rough, like he had swallowed sand.

“How are you feeling?” She laid her hand on his forehead. Warm, but not hot.

“. . . Can I have some water?”

He sounded like he needed it. When she came back with the cup, he took it from her as fast as his shaky hands would allow. It went straight to his lips and he swallowed it in one long gulp, tipping the glass all the way up to get every drop. He smacked his lips afterwards and stared at the empty cup longingly.

“Are you feeling better?”

“I guess,” he said. He sat up without any problems. “Where . . .? Is this our room?”

“Yes.” She sat on the side of the bed. “Makoto, I need you to tell me what happened.”

 “. . . I was going to ask you that next.”

“I called an ambulance to take you to the hospital,” Kirigiri said bluntly. “I have the doctor’s theory, but I need to hear your testimony first.”

“Uh . . .” His forehead wrinkled as he thought hard. “There was another sermon, right? And you wanted to check out Komaeda-kun’s room, so you snuck off. And . . . and then I . . . I called you because the sermon was done . . .”

A glassy look glazed his eyes as he stared far into the distance. His body moved like a buffering video: freezing, moving rapidly, then freezing again. The glass in his hand clicked against the metal of his hoodie’s zipper as it shook.

“Makoto.” She grabbed his shoulder, snapping him out of whatever . . . state had taken over him.

His pupils were dilated when he looked at her. Drool poke out of the side of his lip.

“Forget it,” she said. She shouldn’t be interrogating him this close to the incident.

Wearily, he laid his head back down. “Kyoko, could I have some water?”

He asked that shyly, as if ashamed. He should know better. _Something_ had happened to him and in that case, she didn’t mind carrying out these requests. She went back down to the kitchen. She let the glass fill in the sink where it reflected the purple-black sky peering through the window above. She checked the fridge. Naegi should eat, but she didn’t think he should have anything heavy. Soup, perhaps? They had some that she could heat up. She walked back to the sink and grabbed the cup –

And the window next to her exploded.

A red-hot line sliced through her gloved hand. Even she couldn’t stop herself from yelling. A frayed tear split her glove in two, and blood oozed from the flesh beneath. One of the shards of glass on the floor also dripped red.

She ducked down out of sight. The gaping wound on her hand throbbed, burned. On the other side of the room, an arrow had embedded itself into the wall. And dangling from the shaft was a piece of paper.

It was a note. A message, and that meant no one was trying to kill her – dead people couldn’t read. Whomever shot the arrow was probably out there right now, watching to make sure she would read it. She crawled over, ignoring how her hand screamed every time she put pressure on it. She snatched the paper, and unfolded it.

**DROP THE INVESTIGATION NOW**

* * *

“There’s not much we can do with this,” Togami told her. “I can certainly obtain a warrant to gather handwriting samples, but you know those analyses aren’t that strong of evidence.”

“It’s another point in our favour, do it,” she said.

Togami didn’t even bother reaching for a phone, telling her that he had already ordered it done. If there was anything more to discuss about the note, they had to put it aside, as Naegi came stumbling in. compared to yesterday, his colour had recovered, as well as most of his composure. From time to time though, she would see a vacant, dazed expression on his face.

“How are you feeling?” Togami asked as Naegi took a seat.

“I’m fine,” Naegi said. He almost sounded grumpy.

Quietly, he relayed to Togami his side of the story. Or at least as much as he could. Like he had with her, Naegi explained their arrival to the church and their separation, his prolonged struggle not to doze off during Komaeda’s sermon, and then ducking into the confessional to warn her the distraction was over. Like he had with her, he stalled there, puttering like a car with a broken engine.

“Forget it,” Togami said, having been warned by Kirigiri what to expect beforehand.

“Yeah. . .” His face was still glazed over as he stared at a cup of water on the corner of the desk.

Togami looked at him with something like concern before turning to Kirigiri. “Nanami Chiaki’s computer was mostly clean. We found search queries indicating that she knew of Hope’s Peak and was curious about what they did, but she never looked up anyone in the church itself. I can confirm she searched the location of the Church a few days before she went missing, but that’s not enough to prove she made it there. I also have a response from the bank. It’s not what you’re hoping for.”

He typed on his laptop, and then spun it around so they could see. There was footage of an ATM from a security camera that must have been in the top corner of the room. She and Naegi leaned closer as Togami clicked play.

They watched. Togami paused the video.

“Kyoko . . .?” Naegi looked at her questioningly.

“That’s not me,” she said automatically.

“I had Fujisaki run some facial recognition algorithms,” Togami said, frowning. “Every single one of them pointed to you.”

She stared at that still image, at that woman who stood before the ATM. Togami had paused right where the woman had started to turn, where her face was visible, and her face was Kirigiri’s face.

“That’s impossible,” she said again. “It must be a mask.”

“There’s more footage taken directly from the ATM camera itself,” Togami said. He flipped to that screen.

“. . . That’s a really good mask,” Naegi said.

It was. It really, really was. She was looking, but she couldn’t find any obvious indication that it was a mask – which it must be. She could see no seams or odd coloring around the eyes and lips. The mask fit the wearer’s face perfectly, too, and didn’t sag anywhere.

“This is ludicrous,” she said.

“I know it’s not you, but we have nothing to go on,” Togami said. “There’s been no sightings of your car and I don’t know if there will be.”

“Someone’s trying to scare us off,” she summarized. “Trying being the key word. On the bright side, this is considerable circumstantial evidence that they’re up to no good.”

“I want to remind you that there’s no evidence Hope’s Peak had anything to do with this,” Togami said. “There’s something else I want to mention. Not related to your situation, but to Hope’s Peak. I’ve been trying to track down the construction company responsible for building that church. I can’t find anything. It’s as if they built the entire thing themselves.”

“That’s impossible,” Naegi said flatly. “We’ve been there. “There’s less than a dozen people who live there. And that place was built in a couple of years.”

“I doubt this has anything to do with our murder case,” Kirigiri said.

Togami leaned back into his chair. “No, it doesn’t. I just thought you might want to know.”

They walked out of Togami’s office. Fujisaki spotted them and started to say hi, but then thought better of it when he saw Kirigiri’s face. She knew she was radiating, as Asahina would put it, an ‘aura of doom.’ She’d have to get that under control before she saw any of _them_ again.

“Have I mentioned how much I hate the people involved with this case?” she asked Naegi.

“A few times, yeah,” Naegi said. “I’m starting to get it.”

She forced her body to calm, to revert to its natural, neutral state. “Are you sure you’re okay with going back there?”

“Of course,” he said firmly. “I’m not letting you go there alone.”

She smiled. “I expected nothing less.”

Her aura of doom had dissipated. She led the way proudly, and they nearly made it to the station’s exit without incident. But Asahina and Oogami, by the water cooler, saw them first, and Asahina could never resist a chance to talk with her favourite gossip partner.

“Hey, guys! How’s it going?” Asahina asked. “Did any of them confess to killing Chuck yet?”

Honestly, she had forgotten about the dog. Either way, she couldn’t recall any evidence relating to that case. Not that they had much other than circumstantial evidence for anything right now.

“Seriously, nothing?” Asahina said when Kirigiri answered. “Man, how long is this going to take?”

“You do realize that in nearly every major center, at least ten percent of murder cases go unsolved, right?” she retorted.

“Whoa! I’m not trying to insult you or anything!” Asahina exclaimed. “I’m just wondering why it’s taking so long.”

This was exactly why Asahina was an officer, and not a detective.

Oogami pulled Asahina back, murmuring into her ear. Asahina made some token cries of protest, but Oogami shook her head and stood strong.

Pouting, Asahina said, “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to be mean.”

“It’s fine,” Kirigiri said. She waited for Naegi’s line.

It didn’t come. In fact, Naegi wasn’t paying attention at all. That glazed-over look had consumed him again, and even Oogami and Asahina knew something was wrong. Kirigiri excused themselves and then dragged Naegi towards the back of the station where it was quieter.

He snapped out of it on his own this time, squinting like a young animal exposed to sunlight for the very first time. He didn’t ask how they had teleported away from Oogami and Asahina, seeming to understand on his own what had happened.

“You’re going to lie down in the back,” she ordered. “This is not a request.”

He nodded wordlessly.

“Makoto, this case is important, but so you are,” she said quietly. “It can wait.”

“. . . I do need to lie down,” he mumbled.

Though she had meant everything she said, she couldn’t stave the lingering concern about this personal delay in the case. She chalked it up to habit and forced herself to remain stoic. If Naegi caught a whiff of that thought, he’d be upset with himself.

Although he had spent most of yesterday unconscious, after he laid down, Naegi blinked out quickly. She set an alarm; she’d give him at least an hour to relax. As she put the cellphone back in her purse, the items inside moved and – she could have sworn she left Hope’s Peak’s scripture on the nightstand. Yet, there it was, waiting for her.

Why not? She hadn’t spent as much time studying that suspicious drawing as she planned. She started at the back and flipped forward until she found the image of the victim’s body. There had been no evidence found at the crime scene, but if this picture matched so closely, maybe it would lead her to something.

Nothing. It was the exact same as she remembered, which she had expected. This wasn’t going to waste an hour, let alone ten minutes. She lazily flipped the page forward and –

What was this?

Hadn’t there been only one drawing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> First, they vandalize her home and now her scripture? This case is out of control!


	19. Chapter 19

Of all the church goers she had expected to see in this book, Shinguji Korekiyo had been lowest on her list. He stood on grass – in the garden? – on the edge of some complex symbol drawn into the ground. The symbol was arcane in nature. Was this the ritual Shinguji had claimed to be performing the night the body appeared? If so, then what was the purpose of recording it in a drawing? Had the culprit been waiting for Shinguji to vacate the premises and grown bored in the meantime?

She traced the symbol into her notepad, intending to give it to Fujisaki for later analysis. It was unlikely to be evidence in the murder trial, but she wanted to know. Her eyes roved the page hungrily for more clues. There was writing along the bottom and sides, but she couldn’t understand it. Apart from that, the only notable thing was that the illustrator had taken time to place a single star in the sky.

She flipped the page. This picture was much less exciting. It was an apartment building. That was it, although – hold on. At the bottom were the numbers _424_. An apartment number? Likely, but 424 was not Nanami Chiaki’s apartment, and the apartment drawing was vague and undetailed – she wouldn’t be able to match this building to a real one with what she had.

She flipped again and this. . . this was different. The other pictures had been in black, solid lines that matched the written text. But this one was a mix of those black lines and _crayon_. Why? The crayon part of the drawing showed a silhouette of a small figure staring at the sky where a large hand reached back down. Only this hand was not a single organ, but made from multiple tentacles wrapping around each other. The black and white part of the drawing featured a tall figure grasping at this throat as blood spurted from it. There were no signs of what had caused the slit throat, only zoom lines that indicated it had been quick. Could this be another murder they were responsible for?

Writing, both in crayon and in that black text cluttered the page. She wrote some phrases down; though she should wait for Fujisaki to analyze it, she might try tackling it herself if she had free time.

She flipped. This page returned to the black lines and this time, she recognized the scene. Almost, at least. For she had seen this in person, only the actors had been different. She saw the church and the congregation inside. Komaeda was there on the chancel, preaching to the crowd. Next to him, a figure stood in a basin of water, facing a large mirror. The size confirmed the figure must be a child, but she hadn’t seen any children at the sermons, so she didn’t know how it was relevant.

She flipped and . . . she didn’t understand the drawing. There were lines everywhere, but every time she tried to follow one, it seemed to vanish or split in impossible directions. She couldn’t make sense of it. She tried holding the book at arm’s length to get a feel of the overall shape, but the shape it made . . . it was like she had opened her eyes for the first time. There were lines and curves, and corners but no edges and she couldn’t grasp –

The scripture fell to the ground. She gasped and gripped her head as a piercing headache broke out behind her eyes. It throbbed, pressing against the front of her skull, threatening to rupture it. She had to grab the armrest to stop herself from sliding out of the chair. Uncomfortable pressure shot up her nerve as her teeth ground together.

The pain faded slowly, like an echo dissipating into nothing. As she sat there, struggling to catch her breath, she checked on Naegi. He, at least, seemed to be resting peacefully.

She picked her notepad and pen off the floor. The scripture had landed next to it. She –

Her ears rang. Her face pressed against something cold. What . . .? Where was she? Her eyes ached, like someone had sucker-punched her. Slowly, she pushed herself up – ah, she was on the floor. Her forehead was tender, the sign of an upcoming bruise. Scattered before her was her notepad, pen and Hope’s Peak’s scripture. Yes, that was right. She had been collecting her things and . . . she thought she might have been trying to examine that last illustration again and . . . What next? There was an empty hole in her memory that stung whenever she tried to penetrate it, like she was running water over an open wound. The world swayed, and she used Naegi’s bed for support.

An alarm on her phone went off and it took her a moment to remember why. Naegi. She forced herself to stand without help; she couldn’t let him see her weak like this.

Naegi roused gradually. She remained standing, perfectly still as she fought off the dizziness. He, concerned with his own health, didn’t notice anything amiss.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Fine.” He smiled sheepishly. “How long was I out?”

“An hour. Could you take this to Fujisaki-kun? Ask him to analyze the text on the illustrations in the back.”

“Sure.” Carefully, Naegi slid off the bed. He took the scripture from her, and walked towards the door, pausing right before he reached it. “Wait, you’re not coming with me?”

“I want to make sure you’re capable of navigating on your own,” she lied.

“Fair enough. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

The door swung shut behind him, and Kirigiri sagged against the bed. With two fingers, she pressed hard on the spot between her eyebrows. The pressure gave her an odd, almost sickly feeling, but it seemed to lessen her headache.

This was fine. She’d dealt with worse.

Naegi returned quickly. By then, she had composed herself, allowing an emotionless mask to fall over her face. She didn’t waste time with chitchat; she led him onwards out of the station. Act strong, be strong. Everyone knew that when it came to physical activity, the most important battle was the mental one. Thus, if she behaved as though she was fine, her body would make it so.

It took her eyes a moment to adjust when they walked outside. Night had fallen, and stars were scattered about the sky. With any luck, those at Hope’s Peak would be getting ready for bed.

“Are you okay with staying out late tonight?” Kirigiri asked Naegi.

“I mean I just had a nap, so I’m good to go. Where are we heading?”

“Hope’s Peak.”

Naegi peered at her. “We’re breaking in, aren’t we?”

She flipped her hair. “We’re not breaking in. We’re visiting. Without telling them.”

“Well, I can’t say I wasn’t expecting this. You always have to do it at least once,” Naegi said. He took a moment to stare at the stars. “Let’s get going.”

By the time the bus arrived, and they were chugging towards the stop by Hope’s Peak, Kirigiri’s headache had died. The bus stop was deserted when they arrived, as was the road. A single streetlight lit up the place they got off the bus, but beyond that the road was dark. It got even darker once the headlights of the bus were gone, too. She pulled out a flashlight, and led the way.

The night was quiet. Her breath rose in little puffs of fog. It must have been too cold for insects today, because her breathing was the only thing she heard. The road and darkness ahead stretched out, swallowing her flashlight’s beam. To their right, scattered trees clawed their way into the sky. The clusters became thicker and thicker and they got closer to the forest and thus, the church.

As they neared the building, she turned the flashlight off to hide their presence. The haze of darkness settled in around them, and Naegi quickly grabbed her hand so they didn’t lose each other. He also took advantage of the shadows to nuzzle her neck, retreating with a giggle when she tried to pull his ahoge in retaliation.

In the darkness, Hope’s Peak looked like a mountain. You could not see the building itself, just a sudden absence of stars in the space it had seized. Something small scurried across the ground as Kirigiri laid her hand on the parking lot’s wall and examined it for weakness. It felt solid and without a flashlight, it was impossible to see any cracks. No light came from the church itself; the windows were black.

“It’s not likely the culprit climbed over this wall, is it?” Naegi asked.

She shook her head, then realized he couldn’t see that. “No. Ikusaba would have seen them vault over the top. They must have gone around the back.”

And just as the culprits had, so did they. Wordlessly, they fell into their roles. They slunk close to the ground, hugged the walls, just as the culprits did. When they reached the back wall, Kirigiri remained still while Naegi – the smallest – slunk around to the gate and peered into the garden. Once he had determined the coast was clear, he scuttled back and waved her inside.

The gate creaked when she opened it. (She made a note of that.) The fountain was running, providing the most basic of auditory cover. There were no lights in the garden, but the moonlight flowed in this direction, and some of the flowers claimed that light for their own. It was quite beautiful.

“And this is where they left the body,” Naegi murmured.

“The back door is over there.” She pointed at a patch of darkness. “It looks easy for anyone to sneak through.”

They marched towards that door –

“You shouldn’t be here.”

They spun around, just in time to see a head disappear behind the stone wall. Not that they needed sight to know whom it was, but what was he doing here? Sneaking around as they had been? How long had Tanaka known they were here?

“We’re investigating a murder,” Kirigiri pointed out. “We have a right to be here. You, on the other hand, would be trespassing.”

“This is not their territory,” Tanaka said. “Outside those walls, these lands belong to the earth. Even the swamp is not in their full control.”

She didn’t know if Hope’s Peak’s property lines ended at those walls and honestly, she didn’t care. She just wanted Tanaka to go away.

“You should not be here,” Tanaka repeated. “The evil of this place has always been vile and a poison to mortals, but at _night_? Night is when the leviathans rear their heads.”

“If that’s the case, you really shouldn’t be here either,” Naegi said.

Tanaka chuckled. “Do not fear for me, mortal! The Dark Devas of Destruction protect me this night. I cannot safely breach the boundaries, but outside them, I am perfectly safe. You, on the other hand . . .”

“You don’t need to worry about us, either,” Kirigiri said. “We know what we’re doing.”

“Do you?” Tanaka said in a whisper. “Have you stared into the abyss, and seen it stare back at you? You fool! You mistake the night for darkness. Haven’t you realized the demons hold your strings?”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re at a church,” she deadpanned. “Maybe we can get an exorcism. Go home.”

“You dare command the Sorcerer of Darkness? I would commend you for your courage, if it weren’t arrogant! Have you forgotten my identity? That I am Tanaka, THE FORBIDDEN ONE!”

“Shh!” Naegi immediately started forward, finger pressed against his lips.

But it was too late. Tanaka’s rumbustious laughter started, loud enough that had it been day, it would have sent birds flying from their perch. Tanaka’s hands were near his mouth, almost cupping it as if to create a megaphone, and with that, she understood.

“Inside!” she hissed at Naegi, grabbing his wrist. The back door opened for them, and she shoved him inside.

The door shut. They could still hear Tanaka, but the laughter quickly died up. They stayed there, braced against the door, listening to see if someone from Hope’s Peak would come to investigate. But instead, a haunting silence greeted them; a silence that should have no sound, but still managed an echoing ambience.

“He was trying to wake them up!” she snapped. Quietly.

“We should turn back,” Naegi said. “If he succeeded . . . We can try again another day.”

“If he warns them tomorrow, it won’t matter. We’ll investigate today.”

Right now, the church reminded her of the cavern with its overwhelming darkness. She turned on her flashlight while Naegi used his phone and together, they set foot into the chancel. Each time their feet hit the ground, the noise made her cringe. Surely though, with how noticeable it was, if someone was awake, they would have investigated by now.

They forced their way into the storeroom where Komaeda had shown them the scripture copies. She checked the first and last book on every shelf; if Komaeda left his copy in here, that’s where she would likely find it.

“Kyoko, what are we looking for?” Naegi asked.

“Komaeda’s scripture. Check the altar.”

He nodded and scampered off. She continued browsing through dust-covered pages. Not only did she fail to find the new drawings in any of them, but she still couldn’t find any with the original corpse. She threw aside the last book with frustration.

Where was Naegi? She didn’t think it would take him this long to check out an altar. Had something caught his attention? She picked up her flashlight and left in search of him.

In the day, sunlight fell upon the altar and made it shine. At night, moonlight did the same. That’s how she immediately knew Naegi wasn’t there. So where was . . .?

As her flashlight scanned the room, it fell upon a certain section of the wall. The same section where the confessionals lay, and one door was open.

She walked over. A quick check with her flashlight told her Naegi was not inside, but she checked anyways. Naegi was not there, but the top of the bench lay open, and the mouth of the cavern looked back at her. Naegi could be in there . . . But no, that didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t without telling her, not after the fuss he had raised. No, he couldn’t be in there –

“Makoto!” she called with medium volume, breaking the stalemate in her mind.

Instantly, she heard footsteps rushing over. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I just wanted to know where you were.”

He also looked inside the confessional. “Did you open that?”

“No.”

“Someone’s probably down there,” Naegi summarized. “We should go.”

. . . Why had this passage been so hard for Togami to find? Did it have a lock, as she thought it might? She could check quickly; she’d barely need to go inside for that.

“Kyoko.”

The water in the cove needed to be swept for more bodies. This was a good time, while it was here and waiting for her –

“Kyoko!” Naegi grabbed her shoulder. “If that’s open, it probably means someone’s awake. We should go.”

“Yes . . .” She sounded weak. She pinched herself, and forced strength into her tone. “We will. I want to check Komaeda’s room first.”

For understandable reasons, Naegi was strongly against that idea. She had faith in them, however. They wouldn’t be caught. So it was that she led them up the spiraling staircase, to the fourth-floor door that wasn’t locked. She opened it and they stepped into the hallway containing all the rooms –

“It’s open,” Naegi remarked. “They’re _all_ open.”

They were. Everyone’s bedroom door was wide-open. No lights came from any of the rooms. Were all of the owners in the caverns?

She ruffled Naegi’s hair. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

She smirked. “For your luck.”

There was no telling when they would return. She swept through Komaeda’s room quickly – easily done since so little was inside. It didn’t seem like anything had changed and unfortunately, that meant no scripture either. She could only guess that Komaeda had it with him; if they were performing some creepy ritual in the cavern, it made sense to her.

“It’s not here,” she told Naegi. “Komaeda must have it with him. Makoto?”

He jumped. “Eh? Oh, sorry. What do you think of this?”

He was picking at a spot on the wall. She walked over and shone her flashlight on it. It looked like an ordinary wall.

“I thought . . .” Naegi shook his head. “Never mind. The shadows were playing tricks on me.”

“What did you think you saw?”

“It looked like an eye had been carved into the wall, but I must have been imagining things.”

A quick examination revealed no carved eye, but given the gloomy atmosphere and strange shapes of the general area, it was no surprise the mind was playing tricks on them. As she concluded her study of the place Naegi had pointed out, they heard a footstep in the stairwell; she had left the door open to hear if anyone else entered.

Silently, she grabbed Naegi and nudged him into the staircase. She closed the door behind them and the two climbed up to the fifth floor, banking on the intruder returning to their room.

Below, there was giggling followed by a weary sigh.

“I haven’t heard him that angry for _ages_ ,” Enoshima Junko was saying. “You fucked up.”

“It’s fine. The plan’s unchanged,” Komaeda griped.

“Oh sure, a little hiccup like that isn’t going to change fate,” Enoshima said. “But honestly, he looked like he wanted to eat you.”

“Maybe he’s just hungry. He hasn’t eaten for a very long time.”

Enoshima laughed.

They heard the fourth-floor door open and shut below. Without a word, Kirigiri and Naegi mutually agreed to retreat. They scurried down the stairs, luckily not running into anyone else. Just as easily as they had entered, they slipped out of the church. It was almost anticlimactic.

 “Are we going to try again tomorrow?” Naegi asked.

“We may.” Her phone alarm beeped and she sighed. “Let’s go. We have a bus to catch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Tanaka attempts to corral some lost lambs.


	20. Chapter 20

If it hadn’t been so cold, she would have been ready to nod off by now.

They’d made it all the way to the bus stop, but they were lacking a bus. Naegi huddled on the nearby bench, knees tucked to his chest. She sat next to him. Well, at least it wasn’t raining.

She checked the time. “It should have been here five minutes ago.”

“You sure?” Naegi said, teeth chattering. “There shouldn’t be any traffic delays at this time.”

The answer to that question was obvious, so she didn’t bother saying it. Her legs were growing restless, so she crossed them at the knee, hoping the pressure would sate the urge to move.

Naegi groaned. “Looks like my phone is dead.”

“That’s why you’re supposed to charge it overnight.”

“I did! It just . . . I dunno. I guess today was really hard on it.”

Out of shared sympathy – or paranoia – she checked her own phone. The battery on it was very low as well: less than six percent. Odd. She wasn’t sure what had drained it so quickly.

“You should not be out this late.”

Naegi didn’t even look. “Hey, Tanaka-kun.”

Tanaka strode out of the shadows. His scarf hid his jaw while his red iris seemed to glow. The black hue of his clothes cloaked him in the shadows, but now that Kirigiri knew he was here, she could trace his silhouette. Tanaka walked towards them in a curved path, approaching their bench from the side, as an uncertain dog might.

“Why are you still here?” Tanaka rumbled.

“It’s a bus stop.” Kirigiri pointed at the sign. “We’re obviously waiting for the bus.”

As she finished, her phone buzzed, warning her of its low power. Tanaka’s attention immediately fixed on it.

“Your battery is low,” he murmured. He walked a little down the road, peered into the distance, and then returned. In a louder voice, one arm raised, he declared, “The bus will not arrive for you.”

“Don’t play games with us.”

“You have missed it,” Tanaka insisted. “If you will not believe He Who Bears the Magic Eye, then perhaps you will believe that electronic piece of wizardry!”

Silence.

“He’s saying you should text the bus company,” Naegi said.

While she hated giving in, there was no harm in doing so. She found the bus company’s number and texted them the route ID. They waited in silence for the automated text.

“So?” Naegi asked once her phone beeped.

“It’s . . .”

That couldn’t be right.

“Yes?” Naegi prompted.

“. . . The next bus is in six hours and forty-three minutes.”

Naegi choked on his own spit. “Wh-what?!”

“The bus will not arrive for you,” Tanaka echoed. Yet, he did not seem to relish his victory. He slunk down that same section of road and returned once more, his manner like that of a tiger pacing behind the bars of its cage.

“You must have memorized the wrong schedule,” Naegi said.

“That’s not . . . I’ve never . . . It doesn’t matter. We’ll catch a cab and –”

Her phone vibrated. Dread filled her stomach. She looked down just in time for her phone to announce its battery was empty and shut down.

This was . . .

. . .

. . . 

 _Very_ irritating.

“We better get started.” She got to her feet, followed by a glum Naegi.

“You plan to _walk_?” Tanaka exclaimed.

“It’s a bit unreasonable to wait for a bus for six hours,” she snapped back. “Unless you have a phone, we can’t call anyone either.”

“So instead you walk a path straight into the devil’s mouth. To treat life’s gift so callously . . . I should slay you myself!” Tanaka’s arm swept out, as if he brandished an invisible sword.

“Tanaka-kun, I know you don’t want us to walk home in the dark, but we don’t have very many options. I’m sure we’ll run into a cab once we’re closer to the city.” Naegi’s voice was friendly, but the way he watched Tanaka’s movements was not.

Tanaka turned away. He stroked his chin, making thoughtful noises.

“The Lord of Darkness has many great duties,” Tanaka said. “Tasks that minds like yours could barely comprehend. My power is vast, beyond the understanding of mortals! But as one of the masters of this world, the Great Tanaka is bound to protect its hapless residents.”

“We’ll be fine,” Kirigiri said. “Makoto, let’s go.”

The two of them turned and started to walk down the road. Yet Tanaka followed them, continuing to shout.

“You do not know the way. The darkness will devour you!”

“It’s this way,” Kirigiri said.

Suddenly, Tanaka cut in front of her, forcing her to stop. He looked like he was about to grab her shoulders, but her glare made him think better of it.

“What direction is that?” Tanaka demanded. “Which direction do you face?”

“East.”

Tanaka grinned. “ _North_.”

. . . Was it actually? She would have checked the compass on her phone, but her phone was dead right now.

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” Kirigiri said.

“So, you see the truth of my wisdom,” Tanaka said, arms crossed over his chest, chin thrust out. “Fwahaha, do not fear: I take no offense to your disbelief. Mortals are such simple creatures, unable to . . .”

“Tanaka-kun,” Naegi said wearily, “she’s not saying we’ll stay with you.”

Tanaka peered at her. “Then what are you saying?”

She looked at Naegi. “Are you okay with staying up all night?”

Naegi grimaced. “Are we actually going to try walking all the way back home?”

“No, he’s right. I’m not certain I know the route well enough,” she said. “But there’s plenty more to examine at Hope’s Peak. We can occupy ourselves with that until the morning bus.”

It had been a while since she had pulled an all-nighter, so she should be able to withstand this one. She turned on her heel, ignoring Tanaka once more as she pointed herself towards Hope’s Peak.

“Kyoko?” Naegi’s voice was unnaturally quiet and tense. “What’s going on?”

“Apparently, we missed the last bus tonight. Why do you ask?” she said, genuinely not sure what about their situation was confusing.

“We’re going back?” Naegi’s gaze flittered from side to side, as if expecting their friends to pop out and yell ‘surprise.’ “We were just there. And we nearly _got caught_.”

“Nearly,” she stressed. “It’s fine. They didn’t actually catch us.”

He said nothing, so she considered his question answered. Until she tried to take another step and he caught her wrist.

“It’s not fine. Almost getting caught is the same as getting caught. _You’re_ the one who told me that. You always told me that if we almost get caught, then we need to pull back and reconsider our position because we’re not taking enough precautions.”

“It’s not going to happen again,” she said. “It will be –”

“No, it’s not fine!” he shouted. “You would never want to trespass again so quickly after what just happened.”

“What are you saying?”

“. . . I don’t know.”

The tension was shattered by something very unexpected: a small, furry animal running across her foot. It had leapt off by the time she reflexively kicked at it, and raced towards Tanaka. Tanaka knelt, and the rodent charged straight into his cupped hands. Surprisingly, the animal didn’t panic. It was docile as Tanaka lifted it, and let him stroke its head without a noise of protest. She wasn’t a biologist, but she could see the fat rodent barely had a tail. It looked like a hamster, but what was a hamster doing here?

The hamster was golden-brown and plump. It squeaked as Tanaka cooed to it, almost close enough to touch noses. In the dim light, she could make out a faint white pattern in its fur. A white line tracing its spine, and then five lines that branched off –

Like the graffiti on her home.

“Has your mind already become this shrouded?” Tanaka asked her suddenly. “Are you truly an innocent in this?”

Before she could answer, the hamster’s squealing grew loud. Tanaka stiffened. He turned, checking both ends of the road, something that Kirigiri didn’t like.

“We should start moving,” she said to Naegi.

Naegi didn’t respond right away. When he finally tried to, he never got the words out. For his gaze suddenly shot past her, and he gasped, “Tanaka-kun?”

She whipped around and grabbed Naegi’s arm, just in time to see Tanaka with his hand raised, palm facing them. There seemed to be a strange red light in the area as he began to speak –

* * *

Birds sang. The sun was warm on her cheek. Kirigiri stirred uneasily, shaking off the gloom of a disturbed sleep. Her bed felt strange today. Hard and flat. Because . . . because . . .

Her eyes snapped open. The floor’s wooden boards greeted her. She remembered. This was not good. That last moment before she passed out . . . What had that been?

Tanaka was in front of her, side facing her as he worked at his desk. He was using a mortar to grind something, depositing the crumbs into a small bowl afterwards. The task kept him from noticing that her eyes had opened. Under the blanket tucked around her, she moved her wrists – Huh? Untied? She tested her ankles. Also unbound.

While she pondered over the reason for this strange captivity, Tanaka finished with his work. She half-closed her eyes, keeping her breathing level as Tanaka stepped over her. Silently, while his back faced her, she rose. She looked at the desk. Mostly, there were powders and plants sitting upon it, but there was also a small knife. She grabbed that and then watched Tanaka as he hovered over Naegi.

Unlike her, Naegi wasn’t flat on the ground, but propped up against a wall. A ragged blanket fit around his shoulders and arms, reminding her of a straightjacket. Tanaka grabbed Naegi’s chin, lifted it, and then started to raise the bowl to his mouth –

She sprung forward. Her arm locked around Tanaka’s neck in a brutal headlock, and the man gasped as she threw her weight back and forced him away from Naegi. The flat of the knife, fitting perfectly into her palm, pressed against their kidnapper’s throat.

“What are you trying to do?” she hissed. “What do you want from us?”

Tanaka swallowed. She could feel the motion beneath her hand. “I have not done anything to you.”

“Then why are we here? Explain that.”

“You asked. The walk home would have taken so long that you asked to stay the night.”

“That’s nonsense,” she said without hesitation. “What were you trying to do to my partner?”

“It’s not . . .”

Despite the blade against his neck, Tanaka lurched forward. He grabbed the bowl, then lifted it to his own lips.

He tossed the empty bowl aside. “It’s not dangerous.”

She studied his face. The pallor hadn’t changed. He wasn’t grimacing. She could find no signs of distress. Whatever Tanaka had just swallowed, it did not appear to be poisonous.

 _It could be slow-acting. He could have an antidote squirreled away,_ she told herself. She’d have to keep an eye on him.

“Why are we here?” she asked again.

“You asked to spend the night,” Tanaka insisted. “You two realized the folly of your ways and sought to preserve your mortal souls in my sanctum.”

“The truth!”

“This is the truth!”

She jumped as something ran over her legs. Around her, four hamsters were squeaking indignantly, as if they understood the situation. Naegi, too, was stirring, and upon seeing their confrontation, his eyes widened. The blanket fell aside, and he was immediately between them, still as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“I’m not sure what happened last night, but he’s responsible,” she hissed.

With Naegi now awake, she was comfortable enough to kick Tanaka into the wall. Better pin him there than risk slitting his throat while holding him at knifepoint; even a revered detective like her would have trouble getting away with that.

“I will say it one last time: you asked to spend the night,” Tanaka said. He rubbed his neck, and then checked his hand for blood.

Naegi looked at her questioningly. “I don’t remember that. Actually, I can’t remember even getting here.”

“He knocked us out,” Kirigiri concluded.

But Tanaka wasn’t done. “With what? The labyrinth of the mind is a twisting chain of branches and dead ends that not even its owner has memorized. Even if I, the Dark Lord, were to possess the means to alter memory, the tampering would not be this clean.”

She gritted her teeth and subtly scanned the room. Tanaka was right that it was unlikely he had physically assaulted them; surely, one of them would have remembered something about the fight. Could it have been gas? No, it would be too easy to escape, unless she had fallen first and Naegi had made the foolish decision to stay behind for her. Drugs? Also unreasonable. She didn’t feel like she had been drugged (she had drugged herself once, just to know for the future), and there was no way she or Naegi would have accepted an offering of food.

“Why can’t we remember?” Naegi asked.

“I don’t know.”

That was enough. She marched forward, grabbed Tanaka and spun him around, then slammed him against the wall.

“You’re under arrest for false imprisonment,” she announced, and the handcuffs made a satisfying snap as she locked them around his wrists. “You have the right to remain silent . . .”

This suspect wasn’t associated with Hope’s Peak and thus, wasn’t one she had been hoping to arrest since the beginning, but it was still _very_ satisfying. As the hamsters looked on, she proudly walked her quarry outside. They were going to look strange on the bus, but that was Tanaka’s problem, not hers.

“You have erred greatly,” Tanaka grumbled. “Ask yourself this: why would I have granted you hapless mortals sanctuary?”

Naegi said, “Look, Tanaka-kun, if you’re telling the truth you’ll be released without charges. But you have to understand how suspicious this looks.”

They made it to the road, and then they were no longer alone. Komaeda and Kamukura had been out for a morning stroll, and they had returned just as the trio emerged from the woods. Kamukura appeared puzzled, but Komaeda grinned as he registered Tanaka’s predicament.

“Good morning, Detective Kirigiri-san! Assistant Naegi-kun!” Komaeda called out with enthusiasm. “What a _lovely_ morning it is. I didn’t know you two were in the area.”

“We got here really early so he didn’t have a chance to wake up and run,” Naegi lied smoothly. “You must have still been sleeping.”

Komaeda said, “You must have been here _very_ early then.”

For whatever reason, Kamukura elbowed him in the gut. Komaeda laughed Kamukura off, and the two leisurely walked over towards them. Only for Komaeda to suddenly stop partway there. Kamukura drew closer, but then stopped with a peculiar expression.

“What?” Kirigiri asked.

“Uh, nothing,” Kamukura said. “You don’t smell that?”

“It’s just Tanaka-kun’s stench, I’m sure,” Komaeda said. He tried to smile, but it looked more like someone had grabbed the corners of his mouth and tried tugging it into position. “That’s what happens when you play all day in the dirt. Not that I’m insulting you or your investigations, Kirigiri-san. Dirty tasks like that are why we have assistants, right?”

She hated the way Komaeda said that, as if it were an inside joke between them. She hated it almost as much as she hated Komaeda himself. She couldn’t even blame Tanaka for the vile insults he hissed under his breath.

“What’s that Tanaka? I can’t hear you,” Komaeda said.

Tanaka repeated his tirade in a louder voice. It truly was foul. Kamukura glanced back at Komaeda, looking a little concerned, but Komaeda was still wearing that not-quite-a-real-smile.

“Adorable!” Komaeda laughed. “Humans like him have the funniest insults. Ah, but it doesn’t matter. We both know how this is going to end, Tanaka-kun.”

 “Nagito, calm down,” Kamukura said. “He’s not a big deal anymore.”

“. . . Yes, that’s right,” Komaeda said, locked in a staring contest with Tanaka. It was obvious that the two of them were having a conversation that she and Naegi couldn’t understand.

“Enough. We need to get back to the station.” She yanked Tanaka forward and out of the corner of her eye, saw Kamukura stumble back, placing distance between them. She looked at him sharply, but he only flushed a little and looked away uncomfortably.

Komaeda, on the other hand, followed them. He remained on the verges of her peripheral vision, flitting in and out of view. She didn’t like it. It made her detective instincts flare up with warning of a threat. She whipped around sharply, intending to force Komaeda to leave them alone, but paused when she saw it. For an instant, for the tiniest second, she had seen _rage_. Rage directed straight at Tanaka. It was gone quickly, before Naegi or Tanaka had a chance to turn their heads, but Kirigiri knew what she had seen.

“. . . Actually, before we leave, I have a few questions to ask.” She twisted Tanaka around so that he faced Komaeda. “Why do you two hate each other?”

“’Why wouldn’t I?” Komaeda said. “He’s been hounding us for years. If it weren’t for the territorial lines, he would be rooting through our trash. He’s an irritating gnat who can’t accept the fate of his kind, who thinks he’s powerful enough to change destiny.”

“Is that true, Tanaka-kun?” Naegi asked. “Have you been stalking them?”

They didn’t expect the answer to be in the affirmative. It was just routine to ask. But Tanaka agreed without hesitation, and he did so proudly. Even with his hands shackled behind his back, he struck a conceited posture.

“. . . Alright, I guess we’re taking you in for harassment, as well,” Naegi said with a sigh.

“Isn’t that what you were charging him with in the first place?” Kamukura asked.

“Those charges are confidential,” Kirigiri said.

Komaeda, however, was already clapping. “Amazing! To think that you went after him for something else . . . This is truly wonderful. I knew I could count on you, Kirigiri-san.”

Komaeda was overly happy about this. It almost made her want to release Tanaka in front of him, just to see what he would do. But, she had her professional pride to worry about, and now that she had a suspect, she wasn’t about to let go. She pushed Tanaka forward and went on her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
> ...  
>  So, hopefully you guys picked up from this chapter that a certain characterization oddity is indeed plot-relevant.
> 
> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri fucked up in the chapter before this one. Find out how when we return!


	21. Chapter 21

As expected, they got some odd looks on the bus. No one confronted them though, as Kirigiri’s talent meant a good portion of the town knew who they were. Tanaka, too, was peaceful, obeying her wordless commands as she guided him. They got off at their stop and began the last leg of their journey: the walk to the police station.

Thankfully, luck smiled upon them today. For a few minutes into their walk, a car screeched to a stop nearby. Before the car had fully stopped, Asahina leapt out of the passenger seat, arms pumping furiously at her side as she sprinted towards them.

“Hey! Are you two okay?” Asahina shouted. She reached Naegi first, grabbed his shoulders, and shook him a little.

“We’re fine. Just escorting a prisoner,” Kirigiri said. She took a single step forward, in case Asahina’s shaking knocked Naegi over.

Asahina hadn’t noticed Tanaka yet. She looked over sharply, then jumped when she saw him. Rubbing her curiously bloodshot eyes, she asked, “Is this where you two have been? Togami was about to send out a search party for you!”

“Whoa!” Naegi said. “There’s no need for that. Obviously, you guys must have been trying to reach us. We’re sorry, but both of our phones died. That’s why we haven’t contacted anyone.”

“It’s not even noon,” Kirigiri pointed out. “We haven’t been gone long?”

Behind Asahina, Oogami was exiting the police car. It was still Asahina who spoke, however. “I don’t care what time it is! After what happened, of course we’re going to freak out when you two don’t answer your phones . . .”

“After what happened?” Naegi asked.

Asahina’s pupils widened. “You don’t know? Holy crap, you seriously don’t know. Haven’t you two been to the station at all today?”

“We’re on our way there now,” Naegi said. “What’s going on?”

“It’s . . . well . . . he just . . .”

To their mounting dread, Asahina sniffled. She tried to speak again, but her sentence collapsed into a sob. Tears ran down her face as she rubbed at them furiously.

And Oogami was there, resting her hand on Asahina’s shoulder. Over the shorter woman’s head, Oogami looked at them and delivered the news.

“Fujisaki-kun was taken to the hospital this morning.”

The world held its breath.

“Why?” Kirigiri demanded. “What happened?”

“We don’t know,” Oogami said. “Ishimaru-kun was doing his morning rounds and discovered Fujisaki-kun on the floor, unconscious. He is alive, but we have been unable to revive him.”

A collapse followed by unconsciousness? That. . . that was . . .

“This Fujisaki, is he part of the investigation?” Tanaka asked, unintentionally reminding them all he was there.

“He’s . . . That’s none of your business!” Asahina spat. “I bet you guys are the ones who did this to him!”

“Asahina-san, stop!”

Kirigiri jerked Tanaka out of the way of Asahina’s incoming punch; all he would need was one bruise to get the charges dismissed on police brutality. Asahina groaned in frustration, and wound up her punch again, only for Oogami to grab her wrist. Oogami needed to do nothing else; the woman’s sheer strength alone kept Asahina under control. Asahina’s. Her tears came quicker and hotter as she glared at Tanaka. Tanaka stared past her, gaze fixed on nothing.

“Give us a ride to the station,” Kirigiri said. “We’ll book him, and then go to the hospital. Could one of you call Togami-kun, as well? We don’t need him sending out a search party.”

Asahina didn’t speak. Oogami gently nudged her toward the passenger seat, then opened the back door for Kirigiri and her companions. She shoved Tanaka inside, and nearly climbed inside herself. The only thing that stopped her was that Naegi hadn’t followed.

She walked up to him. He didn’t look at her. At first, she assumed emotion had overwhelmed him, that he didn’t want them to see him cry. But his eyes were curious dry, his face . . . slack. His chest was heaving though, and his pupils were strangely dilated.

“Makoto?” She grabbed his shoulder. Was this a panic attack? She hadn’t seen him experience one in person before. What was she supposed to do?”

“. . . Your plan _was_ to visit a hospital,” Tanaka said from the open back seat.

She grabbed Naegi and quickly helped him into the car. He lay flat against the back seat, fingers curling into the seat under him. She threaded her gloved hand with his stiff one, and rubbed it.

She nearly jumped as something ran across her legs. That hamster, the one with the strange white sigil on its back, stood in Naegi’s lap, happily grooming itself. She glared at Tanaka; what other pests was he hiding in that jacket and scarf? Naegi, however, didn’t care. In fact, he moved suddenly, shakily stroking the hamster with his free hand. His pupils shrunk a little more every time he moved, until they were back to their regular size.

“Are you okay?” she whispered.

“Yeah. I let my imagination get away with me, that’s all.”

She didn’t quite believe him, but she didn’t want to interrogate him in front of their coworkers and Tanaka. She settled for pecking his cheek.

“Humans do not care when they tread on ants,” Tanaka said suddenly, staring at Naegi. “It is seldom that the slaughter is malicious, either. Humans walk, and simply fail to notice the ants are there.”  

Tanaka said nothing else on the ride, which she was thankful for. They handed him off to the nearest authority at the station, and then jumped back into the police car. The sirens wailed as they tore down the roads. Before long, they were in front of the hospital.

“Go,” Oogami said. “I will park and catch up with you.”

Asahina had obviously been here before and didn’t bother asking any of the nurses for directions. She pushed her way into the wards, heading for an unknown destination with Kirigiri and Naegi in her wake. Kirigiri knew their target when she saw it though, for Togami was there, staring inside the room from the hall.

“Chief! How’s Fujisaki-kun?” Asahina asked, twitching her way into a crude salute.

“Still no change,” Togami said. He looked at her and for the first time, noticed Asahina’s followers. “Where in the world have you two been?”

“Our apologies,” Kirigiri said. “Our phones died. What are we dealing with here?”

“Both your phones died?” Togami repeated incredulously. “What impeccable timing. You haven’t answered my question, either. _Where_ were you?”

She could anticipate his reaction. “Hope’s Peak.”

“Are you serious -?”

“Guys!” Naegi’s shout shut them up. “Can you do this later? We’re here to see Fujisaki-kun.”

Without waiting for a response, Naegi slipped past them and ran into the room, Asahina hot on his heels. Togami’s jaw clenched, which meant he still wanted to complain. So, Kirigiri made the quick decision to pre-empt him and follow after Naegi. Togami trailed after her, his metaphorical breath warming her neck.

Inside, Ishimaru’s chair fit snugly against the side of the bed. Ishimaru’s head was in his hands, his eyes were red. Before him lay the small, limp body of Fujisaki Chihiro. A monitor nearby traced the slow beating of his hearts in steady beeps. There were other things, IVs and catheters, but she didn’t know what they were for.

“Hey,” Naegi said softly to Fujisaki’s unmoving body. He lightly held Fujisaki’s hand, as if afraid of cracking it.

“I can’t believe you went there when _both_ your phones were dead,” Togami said from behind her.

“It’s not like we expected them to die,” she said.

He scoffed. “So, you just didn’t notice your phone was dead until it was too late?”

Well, yes. That was close to the truth. She couldn’t say _that_ though, because she wasn’t about to admit to Togami that she’d overlooked that. Come to think of it, what had happened? She could picture Naegi forgetting to check his phone and not noticing the diminishing battery, but it was hard to imagine that she hadn’t.

The arrival– or return – of Owada Mondo saved her from Togami’s questions. The officer entered with a big cup of coffee in one hand, and. . . and Hope’s Peak’s open scripture in the other. Owada only saw Fujisaki and Ishimaru at first. Then, he noticed Kirigiri.

He was in her face before she could blink. He blocked out the light as he growled, “You find ‘em yet? Bet it’s the same bastard who killed Chuck!”

“We have no evidence pointing towards a specific suspect yet,” Kirigiri said.

“Well, what the fuck’s taking so long!?” His fist slammed into the wall by her head. She didn’t react. “If it was Naegi, you’d have the guy on the electric chair by now.”

“Owada-kun . . .” Ishimaru rose slowly, too drained to move any faster. “I’m positive that Kirigiri-san’s doing the best she can.”

“Yeah, well her best ain’t good enough.” Owada suddenly threw the scripture into her chest. “The fuck is this thing anyways?”

“Where did you find this?” she asked. Were she weaker, her voice would have trembled.

“On the floor next to him. You gonna tell me why it’s full of gibberish?”

“It’s coded,” she said. “I had asked him to decipher it, but I can’t see why . . .”

But could she? For this to be next to Fujisaki’s unconscious body made the situation more familiar than she liked to admit. She had suffered the same thing, hadn’t she? She, too, had fainted while browsing those pages. . .

Which raised an question of its own: why had this happened in the first place? Not the fainting itself, but _this_ ; but Fujisaki ever having hold of it. The memories were murky and reviewing them felt like dragging a body out of a bog, but she’d made the connection between her dizziness and the scripture, hadn’t she? So then why. . . _why had she given it to Fujisaki in the first place?_ She should have warned him, at the very least. That’s . . . that’s what she usually did, wasn’t it –?

“ _Guys!_ ”

They snapped around. Naegi took a step back from Fujisaki’s bed, shaking.

“What is it?” Kirigiri said. She stopped next to him and looked down. From Fujisaki’s nose, a thin trail of blood rolled down his nose. Oh. Yes, that would upset Naegi horribly. She reached for a tissue from the box on the nightstand –

There was blood on the pillow, too high to be from his bleeding nose. The colour indicated that it was very fresh and when she touched it, some attached to her finger. But where was the source . . .?

She tilted Fujisaki’s head to better look at it.

Blood dripped from his ear onto the pillow.

“Call a doctor.” When no one immediately moved, she barked, “ _Now!_ ”

Ishimaru stumbled out of the room, shouting for help. Owada surged forward muscling Naegi out of the way, pressing his hand to Fujisaki’s nose to keep the blood inside where it belonged. Togami stood at the foot of the bed, staring down with something like shock as nearby, Asahina clung to Oogami.

“Fujisaki-kun!” Kirigiri didn’t dare shake him. She felt around for a pulse even though the monitor behind her kept track of it. That was why she felt the sudden thump, followed by more trembling thuds as Fujisaki’s heartbeat grew quicker and fiercer.

The heart monitor began to wail. The heartbeats shown were no longer steady, calm waves, but ones that peaked so high they nearly went offscreen. A sudden gush of blood squeezed between Owada’s fingers.

A flood of medical staff poured into the room. They crowded around the bed, pushing she and her friends away, shouting technical terms that Kirigiri did not understand. Suddenly, hands and bodies forced them out of the room entirely. Fujisaki and his bed went wheeling past them and down the hall and the last thing she heard was a command to bring him to surgery.

“Fuck . . . What the fucking hell . . .?” Pale, shaking, Owada touched his own cheek, as if uncertain he was awake. It left bloody fingerprints on his skin.

“Bro, there’s no need to worry!” Ishimaru grabbed Owada and slumped forward, caught between hugging and shaking him. “The medical staff at this hospital are excellently trained. I am c-certain that Fujisaki-kun will be perfectly fine!”

Despite Ishimaru’s bluster, when he collapsed against the wall, he nearly slid down it. Naegi and Asahina, usually the ones to come to others’ comfort, did nothing, in shock from what they had witnessed. Togami excused himself quietly from the group and disappeared.

“We don’t need to wait here,” Kirigiri said, recognizing they needed her leadership. “There’s a waiting room outside the OR.”

They followed her like ducklings, too shell-shocked to think for themselves. How long they ended up in the waiting room. . . it was at least an hour. Then a surgeon came out and Ishimaru rose to meet him.

They knew from watching Ishimaru crumble what the outcome had been.

* * *

“A brain aneurysm. This entire time, he could have dropped dead at any moment and we had no idea,” Naegi murmured, nearly drowned out by the rumble of Togami’s car.

“Don’t blame yourself for this,” Kirigiri said, knowing Naegi liked to do so. “Nobody knew.”

“I know.”

A brain aneurysm. They heard the diagnosis from the surgeon himself. It was a logical answer – a clean answer. Yet something kept nagging at her. Her detective instincts were telling her that this wasn’t the answer. Something more was involved.

She glanced down at her purse, where Hope’s Peak’s scripture slept inside. It was completely illogical – impossible even – but there was something _more_ involved. Something much more sinister.

“This is an unfortunate happening,” Togami said, “but there’s nothing we could have done about it. Let’s talk about something else for now: why did you arrest this Tanaka?”

Naegi hesitated. He looked to her, begging for help.

Kirigiri lied, “Tanaka considers himself an enemy to Hope’s Peak, and Komaeda Nagito seems to support that assertion. There must be something he knows that would be important to us.”

Naegi frowned at her. She offered nothing else. True, they had arrested Tanaka for very different reasons, but she meant what she had said. What had happened to Fujisaki had been frightening, and if her theory was correct . . . then they had _much_ bigger fish to fry than their resident ‘Sorcerer of Darkness.’ Speaking the truth and driving Togami to antagonise Tanaka was no longer in her favour.

“That’s a terrible reason,” Togami said. “But, he’s already here, so let’s find out what he knows.”

The holding cells were in a separate section in the back of the building, close to the site where she had forced Naegi to take a nap and she herself had collapsed. It was as if the universe was goading her about the similarities between she and Fujisaki’s case. But, she shook those thoughts off; she couldn’t be constrained by emotion when an important interrogation was minutes away.

“So, what do you want to do if he asks for a lawyer?” Naegi asked as they approached the door to the holding cell block. “I mean, if we’re not planning on following through with the charges –”

“We’ll deal with that if we must,” Kirigiri said. “However, Tanaka strikes me as too independent to ask for that kind of help.”

“That’s true,” Naegi said.

“Tanaka-kun isn’t as crazy as Hagakure-kun, but he still –”

Suddenly, Togami halted and held his arm out, stopped them  an arm’s length away from the door. Once Togami knew he had their attention, he pointed at. . . the door? The doorframe? She wasn’t sure. This door in question was secured with an electronic lock that wouldn’t open unless an employee swiped their card –

That was supposed to be how it operated, at least. However, when she looked closer, she saw it: the door wasn’t completely within its frame. She shoved it, hard.

It fell over.

The hall opened before them, stretching into the distance before turning ninety degrees to the left, hiding the area beyond. Togami took one step inside the hall, calling out for the guards that were supposed to be on duty. Silence greeted them, even when Togami shouted and banged his fist against the wall.

“Makoto, stay!” Kirigiri said as she strode forward. Togami’s clothes rustled as he drew his pistol from its sheath.

The two of them rushed forward as silently as they could. They slowed once they approached the sharp turn. They exchanged looks, a nod, then ran around the bend. The ambient light dropped sharply here; in the single flickering light, she could see glass shards from the other broken bulbs on the floor. Togami’s gun glinted as the light caught it, as did a guard’s badge.

The guard lay against the wall, unmoving. Togami, grim-faced, called for backup, but otherwise didn’t react. Both had expected this from the moment they saw the broken door. Kirigiri knelt next to the body. There was still a pulse. The gun was in its holster; the guard had not seen the attack coming. From a distance, the guard looked unharmed, but when she knelt next to him and looked closer, there was a needle mark in his neck.

“This is professional,” she said.

Given the evidence in front of her, she could deduce what had happened to the other guard. She still wanted to check, though. So, she walked forward, toward the holding cells. Down the hallway, through the dim light, she faintly detected the body of the other guard. But for once, Kirigiri’s focus wasn’t on the unconscious body before her. It was on something else: the cells. The first two were empty, as expected, and their gloomy interior cast a shadow over the area. But the third . . . the third . . .

It was like someone had tried to mold the bars around a bubble. Instead of being perfectly vertical as they should be, the bars on the third cells bulged outward. The outer-most bars had only experienced warping, but the ones near the center were a different story. About two thirds of the way down, they were also severed. It reminded her of the aftermath of an explosion, but there were no scorch marks.

“Did you search Tanaka for weapons?” Togami demanded.

“Of course, I did. Nothing he had on him could have done _this_.” That was very true, because she had no idea how something like this ever could have happened.

There was no more to say. Togami’s backup swarmed the scene, forcing both her and Togami out of the area and back to safety. Naegi met them at the door like a puppy with separation anxiety.

“We have security cameras in that area,” Togami said as Naegi tried to ask what had happened. “Follow me.”

They did. They went right to the security room (she overheard Togami muttering that he would fired the fool positioned there), and demanded to view the footage from earlier.

“Uh, sure. Can I ask why?” the officer said.

“What do you mean _why_? Does that tiny brain of yours think that unconscious bodies are no big deal?” The officer quailed in the face of Togami’s overwhelming presence. Togami, on the best of days, could be snotty and intimidating. But this here, this musky aura he emitted? This was the authoritative side of him, the side that cowed the mayor into maintaining their funding, and neutered those who wished to usurp his rule.

“I-I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“And why would that be? Are you telling me you were asleep on the job?”

While Togami ensured his subordinate would have nightmares, Kirigiri decided she would do something useful and check out the security feed. Perhaps there would be something useful on one of the other screens –

“Togami-kun, look at those two,” she said, pointing at the screens in question.

Togami stopped his tirade and looked. The feeds Kirigiri pointed out where those from the holding cell block. At least that’s what they were supposed to show. They did indeed show the holding block area, but something was wrong. Togami’s backup was missing from the video, and more importantly, the two guards they had seen were conscious and Tanaka was in his cell.

“It’s been tampered with,” Naegi said.

“I suppose you aren’t a complete failure then,” Togami said to the hapless guard. “Who else was in here?”

“No one, sir.”

“Then how . . .? These feeds aren’t wireless, so how is it possible. . .?” Togami twitched. “Naegi, call Fujisaki and –”

He trailed off. An uncomfortable silence fell over the group.

“I need to make some phone calls,” Togami said, making Naegi wince as he broke the awkward moment with as much elegance as dropping a rock on his toe. Togami left and soon after, the officer left too, saying something about needing a break.

“This is something Fujisaki-kun would have solved,” Naegi whispered.

She shuffled her feet. Kirigiri wouldn’t have counted her and Fujisaki as particularly close, but he had still been a valuable ally. She had held a great amount of respect for him. To be honest, if anything, she still hadn’t fully come around to the reality. Fujisaki, who never ventured out to the crime scenes himself, had been the last person she expected to lose during her career. Fujisaki had been the support in the background, always present, always _alive_.

But while she may still be working through denial, Naegi had passed that stage. As he stared forlornly at the screens reminding him of his fallen friend, his spine sagged in exhaustion. His face seemed creased and pale, like he was ten years older than he was. He was supporting himself with the back of a chair, almost slumped over it.

“It’s been a long day,” Kirigiri said. She offered her hand to him. “Let’s go home.”

“But Tanaka . . .”

“The crime scene will be there tomorrow,” she said. “Besides, I doubt Togami wants us to get in the way while they sweep the area.”

That much was true, but there was an itch under her skin, an itch to get to the crime scene while it was fresh. She knew what she was looking for, after all: Hope’s Peak. It was connected somehow, but she didn’t know how. She needed to go back there and find out what she missed.

She blinked harshly. That wasn’t important right now. Her theory was just a theory. She needed to make sure Naegi was still functioning.

The security feeds flickered. _All_ of them flickered. Buzzing filled the room as they turned into screens showing naught but static. Naegi whirled around, head turning from side to side rapidly like an animal that knew there was a predator about.

“Kyoko . . .”

The two screens in front of them, right next to each other, suddenly recovered. Yet the feeds they showed were not the ones they had originally. Before, these cameras had shown images of the front door. Now, they showed the feeds of the two cameras in the holding cell block. The guards were moving around as they had been in the forged footage.

“Maybe Togami-kun’s trying something,” Naegi suggested.

“. . . No, I don’t think that’s it.”

For about ten seconds, nothing happened. Then – it was so fast – a shape sprung into the camera view. One arm locked around the guard’s neck and over his mouth; the other plunged a syringe into his neck. It was over in seconds, and the other guard never noticed.

The shape, the intruder glided along the ground with an unnatural smoothness, with a stride that betrayed nothing but confidence. They seemed to flicker, to almost fade out into the shadows at some point. Then, they lunged. They slamming into the second guard and subjected him to the first one’s fate.

By this time, Tanaka had realized something was wrong. He paced back and forth in his cell, before grabbing and rattling the bars on the door. The intruder stalked towards him, freezing once they made eye contact. The two faced off, neither appearing willing to give in.

The intruder reached for their waist, and pulled out a gun.

At the same time, Tanaka backed away from the wall and raised his hand. As the gun started to rise, Tanaka made a circular gesture and there was a gleam of red on his exposed arm –

She saw it. She saw the metal bend, subtle enough that if she hadn’t seen the aftermath, she may not have noticed. The next second, a bluish light filled the screen, drowning out everything and there was the sound of metal groaning even though the security feeds didn’t have sound –

The two screens went black.

“Is that. . . is that what happened?” Naegi exclaimed.

She said nothing.

Naegi asked, “Why would they show us this?”

“. . . Because Togami-kun isn’t here,” she spat. “This game we’re playing is between us and _them_. They don’t want Togami-kun involved more than necessary.”

“You think Hope’s Peak is responsible for sending that person to kill Tanaka-kun?” Naegi said.

Hands on the back of a chair for support, she leaned forward and glared at the black screens. Her jaw clenched.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri begins to have doubts about the case.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how this chapter ended up so long

The clock ticked. Kirigiri breathed. Another tick. Another inhale. The clock ticked.

The floor creaked behind her. Creaked again, then paused. She looked back at the pacing Naegi.

“It’s awfully late,” he said softly. “Are you going to stay up long?”

“Not much longer,” she promised. She turned her gaze back to the coffee table, and what lay upon it.

The couch groaned as Naegi took a seat next to her. “What’s on your mind?”

“That.” With her chin, she gestured to the tabletop, where the scripture rested upon its surface. Like this, closed, it seemed so fancy and plain. Unthreatening. She should have known better than to trust it.

“We’re probably never going to get that translated,” Naegi said. He reached for the scripture. “Maybe I’ll get lucky –”

She yanked his arm away so roughly that he yelped.

Rubbing where she had grabbed his forearm, he fake-pouted and said, “I’m not _that_ bad at solving puzzles.”

“You’re not touching it.”

He gave her a long look. “Okay. I’m going to bed now. Don’t work too late.”

He laid a feather-light kiss on her temple, and then departed. She turned back to the scripture, opened to the first page, to the text that had never changed. Her wrist twitched as she scanned the ineligible words. Fujisaki’s body flashed in her mind. _Why_? Could her theory, as impossible as it seemed, be correct? Yet, she had seen everything inside these pages, hadn’t she? She had seen what Fujisaki had, and survived. Unless she simply hadn’t studied them intensely enough.

As she thought that, natural detective curiosity spread from her toes all the way to her head. They were just symbols on a page. Just black lines and curves on white. How could they possibly be –?

She forced herself to close the cover. _If_ her theory were somehow true, then examining it closely would be exceedingly reckless; it wouldn’t be something she would normally do. If her theory were somehow true . . . how could she ever prove it? Neither the writing analysis of the threatening note she had received or the captions in here had produced a match, although that didn’t mean they weren’t written by someone at Hope’s Peak.

She rubbed her eyes. Not today. This theory would not be her focus today. She’d give it a little more time in case something new came up. She hid the scripture under the armchair’s cushion. Naegi never sat there, so he wouldn’t find it and decide on some late-night reading.

Someone knocked on the door.

She opened it. Her grandfather smiled at her and waited for her to invite him in. Funny to think that he, a family member whom she had invited over, was one of the few visitors that ever offered that politeness. The two took a seat at the kitchen table, her grandfather clasping his hands together as he waited.

“Thank you for coming,” she said.

“I always have time for you,” her grandfather said. “You had something you wished to discuss?”

“Yes.” Her fingers drummed against the tabletop anxiously. “It’s about something Makoto said to me.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Although he said the words humorously, that sentiment was lacking in his eyes. She knew why. While she herself had never been interested in anyone besides Naegi, other men had shown interest in her; however, Naegi was the only one that her grandfather had approved of.

“It’s not like that. You remember that case I’m working? Makoto implied yesterday that. . . that I’ve been compromised.” She shifted; even the mere word made her uncomfortable. “I don’t feel that I am, but Makoto is much more perceptive than he thinks he is.”

“You are afraid you have been taking things too far,” her grandfather said.

“That’s one way of putting it.”

Her grandfather took a while to consider her conundrum. “I have no doubt that Makoto wants nothing less than the best for you. However, you must remember that he is not a Kirigiri. He cannot understand the obligations of our line.”

He reached out and gently grabbed her gloved hand. He slipped the fabric off carefully, exposing the scars.

“Do you remember what this is?”

She nodded. “A reminder of duty.”

“Yes, the duty of a detective, and what we have to sacrifice. That is what it means to be a Kirigiri. Your responsibilities must always come first,” he said, releasing her hand. “If you feel you must go further for this investigation, then that is necessary.”

“I know, but I can’t deny what he said, either. When I looked at my approach on previous cases, it is quite different than the one I seem to be taking for this one.”

“Perhaps it is, and I can see why that would trouble you if you were to look at it logically,” he said. “But you must consider this: there are many logical detectives in the world, but none as talented as the Kirigiris. What sets us apart is our instincts. Kyoko, what do your instincts tell you?”

“. . . To keep going.”

He nodded. “Then I would trust that. Your instincts come from the subconscious, and the subconscious understands more about the situation than you know.”

“There’s something else.”

Quietly, she told him about Fujisaki.

“I should have said something,” she finished, her fists clenched on her lap. “It was irresponsible for me to have given that to him. I . . .”

She trailed off. After a moment, her grandfather said, “You what? You killed him? This will sound hypocritical considering what I just told you, but you mustn’t rely completely on instinct. What you are suggesting is impossible.”

“Those images gave me migraines,” she said. “I’m not entirely sure why I passed out, but the circumstances suggest it was due to that scripture.”

“And how would it have caused that?” her grandfather asked. “I doubt someone from Hope’s Peak was standing behind you, waiting to knock you out if you accessed that page.”

“. . . A chemical,” she said. “The pages have been soaked with a chemical, or infected by a pathogen.”

“That causes and ruptures brain aneurysms within a day? There is no such thing.” Her grandfather leaned forward. “There is no harm in entertaining theories, even ones that seem outlandish, but you need evidence behind them.”

They were harsh words, but sensible, and that was what their profession was all about. She slipped her glove back on. “I understand. Thank you.”

They chatted amiably for an hour longer before her grandfather needed to leave. She escorted him to the door, watched him reach his car. She certainly felt better about things now. Her grandfather didn’t seem to think she was acting inappropriately, only that she was scaling up in response to a more difficult case.

She cleaned up and did the dishes. When she turned away from the sink, she could see through a doorway into the living room, and through that window into the front yard –

What was that?

By the edge of the sidewalk, just beyond the illumination of a nearby streetlight, there was a figure. Humanoid. She could tell by the silhouette that they were facing their house. Her instincts sprung to life, crawling across the back of her neck.

Hope’s Peak. Whom else would it be? She hoped this wasn’t an attempt at intimidation because that would just be insulting. No, her guess was that someone was spying on them – and she intended to find out who. She was comfortable in her assessment that Hope’s Peak was playing a game with Naegi and her, meaning they weren’t currently interested in killing her.

So, she walked outside, though only to the bottom of the front steps. To no surprise, that figure was no longer in the place it had been before. She couldn’t find any trace of where it had gone, but that didn’t matter. Whomever they were, they knew that Kirigiri had seen them. That might be enough to ward them off.

As she turned around, her lip curled in disgust as she saw that awful marking on their front door. It must have been just her, or the light, but it looked even brighter than usual. Whatever. No doubt this was another one of Hope’s Peak’s ‘jokes,’ and she wasn’t about to give them the pleasure of getting to her.

(Though hadn’t she left the door open?)

The night seemed calm. If she had been a spiritual person, she would have taken that as a good sign. Still, despite her lack of spirituality, she acknowledged it was beautiful. She was still looking skyward when she tried to open the locked door.

The. . . locked . . . door.

“Are you kidding me?” she hissed. She used both hands this time, but for all her efforts, the door rattled but stayed stubbornly shut. Naegi. It must have been him. He must have wandered by, seen the open door, closed and locked it.

She didn’t even have her cellphone on her. She hammered on the door, hoping Naegi would hear her. She couldn’t believe this was happening. If Togami heard about this, he’d never forget it.

She rang the doorbell and sucked in air through her clenched teeth. This truly was turning out to be a terrible day.

She pounded against the door one last time, fist coming to rest in the center of that graffiti. Could things just go her way for once?

 _Screech_.

The hairs on her arms rose. She swallowed, forced herself to think beyond silly superstition as the gate to their backyard opened. It was the wind. That was all. She walked towards the open gate, muscles tense with anticipation, waiting for something – though she didn’t know what. The metal was cold when she grabbed it and after a second of thought, she walked into the backyard and closed the gate behind her. Naegi hadn’t heard her banging on the front door, but he might if she knocked on the back. If she _really_ had to, she could climb on the roof and knock on a window –

The back door was open.

For precious seconds, she could only stare. There was no benign reason for that door to be open.

There was little time to waste. She slipped inside and went straight for the knife block on the counter. The knife she drew felt heavy in her hand; it wasn’t meant for fighting, but she’d make do. She kept her eyes on the walls as she advanced towards the foyer, looking for moving shadows. The house was silent as the grave. She couldn’t even hear Naegi moving around.

She needed to move faster.

The lower floor seemed clear of enemies. She ran up the stairs as fast as she could, heart pounding in her chest. Still no signs of Naegi,. Still no sign of whether that was a good or bad thing.

She reached the top. The lights on the upper floor were out, but she could still see a figure at the end of the hall. Naegi. Staring into their bedroom. He was unnaturally still, as if someone were inside and . . .

 _Hostage_ , her mind said. She needed to be careful. If what she suspected was true, if someone was standing in that room pointing a gun at him, one wrong move could mean everything.

Step by step, she walked down that hall, her eyes fixed on Naegi. When his head suddenly snapped towards her, she could swore she heard scare chords.

“Is everything okay?” she said quietly. Given Naegi’s movement, it was too much to hope that the intruder in their bedroom still didn’t know she was there.

“Of course,” Naegi said. He turned fully to face her. “Why would you think something’s wrong?”

“The back door is open,” she said.

“Oh. . .” The watchfulness, the wariness she had while stalking down the hall towards him, she heard it reflected in him for an instant. But it vanished as he burst into a brilliant smile. “Sorry, that was me. I was doing some star gazing – it’s really nice out – and must have forgotten to close it. I’ll go do that right now!”

He walked past her. She watched him leave, watched him go downstairs. Once he was out of sight, she took up the place he had vacated and stared into the bedroom.

The window was open.

* * *

She spent most of the night awake, waiting and watching for anything unusual. For once, that next morning, Naegi rose easier than her. There was a faint throbbing at the front of her skull, and her eyes were dry and itchy. She devoured a couple cups of coffee until she felt she could function. Naegi had glanced at her a couple of times with a clear question on his lips but hadn’t voiced it. Neither had he said anything about last night.

It was sleep deprivation. That’s where the strange tension between them was coming from. Still, she was both too tired and too worked up to address it properly. They travelled to Hope’s Peak in silence, not meeting each other’s eyes.

Komaeda, the person she least wanted to see, greeted them when they walked into Hope’s Peak. He leaned against the wall with his hands in his pocket – a casual, very normal stance – straightening up when he saw them like a lever cranking into position.

Might as well get this over with. “Komaeda Nagito, correct me if I am wrong, but Tanaka has expressed a desire to harm you and this institution in the past.”

“He certainly _wants_ to,” Komaeda said. “Being able to is a completely different story.”

“. . . Then I am obliged to inform you he is currently at large.”

“Yes, that’s unfortunate.” There was no change in his behaviour, as if Komaeda had already known this. “You’re keeping yourselves safe, right?”

“Don’t worry about us,” she said sharply.

“Tanaka is quite persistent.”

“And I have taken precautions.”

Komaeda nodded. “I expect nothing less from you.”

He said that condescendingly, like she was a cat he had patted on the head. She struggled not to unsheathe her metaphorical claws, settling for a blank stare instead.

“You didn’t see him last night, did you?” Naegi asked.

“I didn’t,” Komaeda said. “We haven’t found him yet.”

“And you shouldn’t try to find him. He could be dangerous to you,” Naegi said.

“Are you worried about me? That’s adorable!” Komaeda laughed and this time, he _did_ pat Naegi’s head. “I’ll be fine, Naegi-kun. I have just a _little_ more authority in this world than an assistant!”

As Naegi visibly fought not to roll his eyes, Komaeda ruffled his hair and wandered off.

Naegi turned to her. “So, what are we -?”

 “ _Let’s go our separate ways for now_.”

. . . Was what she was _about_ to say. Then, she questioned herself. True, they would cover more ground that way. True, they were more likely to let down their guards if Naegi was questioning them alone. But was that safe? Was that course of action _normal_ for her? Why not compromise? They didn’t have to talk to the same people, but they could be in the same room. That seemed like a fair balance, and she told him so.

“Sure, sounds good,” Naegi said, and she took the lack of protest as a good sign.

“Don’t do anything too risky,” she warned him before she let him be.

She walked through the church as nonchalantly as she could. One of these people had staked out their house last night. She needed someone she could bully into telling the truth: someone who was not Komaeda or Enoshima.

“Worthless. Utterly worthless. And you stink, you know?”

Hm. If she could decouple the siblings, there was a potential target. Ikusaba had given some valuable information in the past. And what better way to interrupt than by raining on Enoshima’s parade?

“Is there a reason you’re talking to her like that?” Kirigiri said, aiming her words at Enoshima like a shame-laced arrow.

Enoshima didn’t flinch. “Cause it’s true. She’s a failure of a servant, not an overachiever like you.”

“I-I’m sorry. I’ll do better next time!” Hands wrung together, like a movie hunchback speaking to their master, Ikusaba looked at Enoshima with bright, wide eyes. “I promise I’ll –”

Ikusaba ducked out of the way as Enoshima swung a lazy backhand at her. “Shut up. Your voice is _so_ annoying!”

“Servant?” Kirigiri repeated. Come to think of it, this may have been the first time she had seen Ikusaba and Enoshima properly interact.

“Yes,” Ikusaba said. “I’m not important, so –”

“Seriously, shut up!” Enoshima groaned. This time, there was force behind her attempted backhand.

“Important? What does that mean?” Kirigiri asked.

Enoshima shrugged. “Come on, everyone knows the younger sister gets all the goods.”

She didn’t believe that for a second. . . But was Enoshima arrogant enough to declare herself superior to her sister? Yes, Kirigiri could believe that. She would have pushed further, but a commotion rose behind her. The high voice told her Yonaga was involved and unfortunately, she had an idea who had initiated it.

Yep, Naegi was speaking, emphatically expressing something to Yonaga and Shinguji. Shinguji had his hand on his chin, brow scrunched in something that might have been concern. As Naegi stopped talking, Yonaga shook her head fiercely and started blathering.

“What are you talking about?” Kirigiri asked as she joined the group.

“Well, Shinguji-kun studies different cultures, right? I wanted to ask whether he knew anything about that weird thing on our door.” Naegi turned his palm towards her, showing off the leaf-like symbol he had drawn there.

“As a matter of fact, I do know this sigil. It is best that you are here to listen as well, Kirigiri.” Shinguji turned to Naegi. “What you need to know is that whomever drew that is an enemy. You would be wise to remove it as quickly as possible.”

“We tried washing it off,” Naegi said. “Didn’t work too well. What if we painted over it?”

“No. It would still be there underneath, if it doesn’t burn through the paint. It must be removed properly. That is something we can assist you with.”

“We sure can.” Yonaga grabbed the paintbrush strapped to her waist and twirled it between her fingers. “Angie will take care of all your ward-breaking needs.”

Kirigiri eyed the paintbrush, measuring its width with her eyes. Potentially, it could have created the images in the scripture. “You’re quite the artist, aren’t you? Why is that?”

“For Atua, duh!” She pressed her hands together as she closed her eyes in reverence. “Making art for Atua is one of my many means of worship.”

“Your art is quite pleasant,” Shinguji agreed, and Yonaga giggled. “But to return to the original topic, when should we arrive?”

“Don’t,” she said. There was no need to be polite, something Naegi didn’t agree with, seeing as he winced. “We don’t need your help. We’ll figure it out on our own.”

“If you insist,” Shinguji said. “But should you change your mind, please remember our offer still stands.”

“You say an enemy of ours put there, but what does it do?” Naegi asked.

“It is complicated to explain. The easiest explanation is that it strips you two of a certain type of protection while you are within that household. You may want to consider staying somewhere else for the meantime.”

“And where is that?” Kirigiri said dryly. “Here?”

“Hope’s Peak has extra beds.”

“Not happening.”

The conversation ended shortly after and she looked around. Ikusaba and Enoshima had left. That limited her options. . . Aha! That was Kamukura over there, walking into a room. She casually checked no one was watching, grabbed Naegi’s wrist to pull him along, and then followed Kamukura.

They found themselves in the room that held all the spare scriptures. Kamukura was at the table, one of them open before him. He had a pen and was writing in the back pages. Interesting. Those would be the pages where the illustrations were. She tiptoed forward until she could read over his shoulder. His handwriting looked nothing like the words in her copy of the scripture, but that didn’t say anything about his drawing skills. She would have to keep this in mind.

She couldn’t read what he was writing. It was in the same strange language as the rest of the scripture, but she could tell Kamukura wasn’t that familiar with it. He wrote haltingly, often pausing between words to think, and his pen strokes were sharp and deliberate rather than the scrawl of someone who wasn’t concentrating that hard. That didn’t seem right. Hadn’t Kamukura said he had been here for a long time?

As fate would have it, Kamukura suddenly tried to _scootch_ back. His chair leg hit Kirigiri’s foot and Kamukura automatically looked back, only to jerk into the table when he realized she was there. Breathing heavily, taking a second to compose himself, Kamukura looked up at her and demanded, “What the hell?”

“Very elegant,” she said.

“Sorry. You just caught me by surprise.” Kamukura tried to sit naturally as casually as possible. “How long were you standing there?”

“Not very long,” Naegi said. “You can read that?”

Kamukura eyed Naegi, not seeming to know whether to trust him. “Well, yeah? Hey, uh, could you not tell Nagito or Junko that you snuck on me?”

“Why would they care?” Kirigiri asked.

“Because I’ll never hear the end of it. Can you just promise not to tell them?”

“Fine,” she said, but only because keeping this conversation a secret would benefit her, too. “Won’t they be upset that you’re defacing church property?”

“You mean this?” Kamukura pointed to the page of the scripture he was writing on. “This one’s mine. They wouldn’t care.”

“I see. Do you all have your own private copies?”

“Not everyone. Yonaga-san and Shinguji-kun don’t need one and I’m not entirely sure whether Ikusaba-san has her own or she shares with Junko. . .” He trailed off. A shadow of suspicion crossed his face. “Why?”

So, neither Yonaga nor Shinguji were likely to have made those drawings. She shrugged. “I’m a detective. I’m curious.”

“. . . Right.” Kamukura shuffled closer to the table, as if to hide the scripture.

“How do you keep others from reading your private copies?” she asked, watching him closely.

“Uh, people just don’t do that?” he said, looking at her as if she had just admitted to going through his underwear. “It would be pretty rude.”

Naegi tapped her back. “Kyoko, I’m going to step out for a bit.”

She let him go. One would think that getting rid of one interrogator would ease Kamukura’s tenseness, but it did the opposite. Good.

Kamukura asked, “Is there something else you wanted?”

“There is, actually.” Without asking, she took the seat across from him. “You had a busy night yesterday, didn’t you?”

“Wh-what?” His face went red. “Why is that any of your business?!”

“You’re a person of interest in a case I am working. Everything you do is my business.”

Kamukura tugged at his collar. “Th-that’s bullshit. What I do with Junko isn’t any of your business!”

“It is my business . . .”

A moment later, she realized what they were _really_ talking about.

“That’s not what I meant!” she said, her own cheeks hot with the urge to blush, though she held it back. “I’m referring to your invasion of my property.”

“My invasion. When did I ever. . .?” Looking frustrated, Kamukura visibly swallowed. “Why does it matter anyways? Why are you bringing this up now?”

“You think I wouldn’t after I spotted you outside my house?”

“Look, I’ve never been to your place, okay?” Kamukura snapped. “I already told you I was with Junko last night. None of us were there! Even if we wanted to, that . . .”

He stopped short. She let him, but only because she was mulling over the words he had said before: ‘Why did you decide to bring this up now?’ Something was wrong with the phrasing. What he said really implied that . . .

“. . . Someone here _has_ been outside our house before,” she concluded. If she thought about it, given how much Hope’s Peak knew about her and Naegi, learning this wasn’t a surprise. Yet it still came as a blow. It was like stepping on a rock and being bit when it turned out to really be a snake – the unexpectedness made it sting even more.

 _Snap_. Kamukura shut the scripture as he stood up. Looking her in the eye, almost glaring at her, he said, “You’re reading too much into what I said. I need to go.”

Her arm slammed into the wall, creating a solid, living barrier between Kamukura and the exit. To his credit, he didn’t take a step back. He didn’t display any fear at all. If anything, he looked miffed that she was blocking him.

“When were they outside my home?” she demanded. A pulse of exhausted, draining irritation rang through her. “Why are they watching us?”

“Calm down,” he told her. “You’re –”

“Don’t try to deny it.” This time, she managed to control herself so that her voice was mostly neutral. “You might act nice, but I know you’re working with the rest of them. None of them have bothered to hide how much they’ve intruded on my personal life.”

“We weren’t outside your house yesterday!” he snapped. After a moment, he lied, “We haven’t ever been outside your house.”

“If it wasn’t you, then who was it? I doubt a stranger just coincidentally chose that day to stare at us.”

“It must have been –”

His eyes widened in realization. Though she gave him her sternest glare, he acted as though he couldn’t see her, like he lost in thought.

“I need to go,” he suddenly said. The change from his spaced-out demeanor was so abrupt that he almost managed to slip past her. But her body reacted before her mind did, and she stepped between him and the door.

“Explain.”

“I can’t help you,” Kamukura said robotically. “Talk to someone else.”

“You can. I know you can. You know exactly who was there, don’t you?”

“Even if I suspected who it was, it wouldn’t help you. Don’t you usually want more evidence than speculation?” he asked her critically.

She was right about him. He was one of _them_. One of those smug church goers who had been spying on her. She knew this had all been an act. It ratified her to finally confirm that but at the same time, she felt like a volcano simmering just beneath its exterior.

“You have pushed my patience much too far today,” she said. “I will give you one last chance to come clean.”

The proper setting for an interrogation was in a police station with charges hanging over the interrogee’s head. Although Kirigiri – and everyone else – knew she was good at her job, she also knew she lacked the physical appearance of someone who could intimidate a suspect into talking. Hence, why the proper setup was necessary. But she didn’t have that, and Kamukura was also smart enough to know she didn’t have much leverage and her threat fell on deaf ears.

“I know much more than you think I do,” she hissed. “I can promise you one thing: every single one of you will go down.”

He looked at her flatly. “Do you really think you’re intimidating me?”

She didn’t get a chance to answer. The door behind her swung open, clipping her braid. She heard Enoshima before she saw her, as the woman was calling out loudly as she hung from the side of the doorframe and waved. Kamukura took the interruption for what it was – a way out – and calmly walked past Kirigiri. He slipped out and Enoshima _stuck out_ her tongue before following her out.

Those insufferable -! Those arrogant little –

She forced her thoughts to stop in their tracks. Calm down. This wasn’t helping. Getting emotional like this would only impair her reasoning. If Naegi was with her, she might have tried petting him to calm down. He wasn’t though, so she had to calm down alone. Her nails scraped against the thick material of her gloves. Be calm. Slow her pounding heart. Let the fire inside ease into a flickering ember.

“Tanaka’s escape really has you stressed, doesn’t it?”

And there went all the progress she had made. For if she had to name the person she most wanted _not_ to see right now, it would be Komaeda. But he was here. He smiled at her pleasantly, ignorant to the tension that had filled this space a minute before.

“It’s always troubling when a criminal evades justice,” she said evasively.

There was no room to get away from him. Even turning away would look odd, given there was so little to look at in the room. The most she could do was head towards one of the shelves and make a show of checking out the scriptures there, as if she were going to root through them again.

“Your warning wasn’t necessary,” Komaeda said. “Tanaka speaks tough, but he knows his place in the universe is below ours. Still, I appreciate that you took the time to warn us. That’s what I like about you, Kirigiri-san: you work so hard!”

She grabbed a scripture at random and opened it to a random page.

“Tanaka is no threat to someone like me, but you should be cautious. I’ll assume you’re taking good care of Naegi-kun, as well.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” she said testily.

“Ah, you’re so devoted to that!” Komaeda cooed, like someone watching a puppy learn how to fetch. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Although, if that is a yes . . . then I have to say I’m disappointed in you.”

“Why? Because he’s an _assistant_?” She watched him with narrowed eyes.

“You know what I mean when I say that.” The first part he had said with laughter, but then he went solemn. “But considering you understand it’s dangerous to have someone like Tanaka at large, I was shocked that you let Naegi-kun go to Tanaka’s house all by himself.”

She snapped around. “Come again?”

“You don’t need to pretend,” Komaeda said cheerfully. “I watched him walk into those woods. There’s nowhere else he could have been going. And, well, like I said, it’s disappointing that you sanctioned that. You must have, because you’re Naegi-kun’s guardian and he wouldn’t do anything that dangerous without your approval.”

“No, he wouldn’t.” She managed to say that without betraying anything.

She said nothing else. She was steel, unyielding. Komaeda’s stare wouldn’t erode her will. Eventually, he seemed to realize that and slithered off like the snake he was. What had he been trying to pull here? Accusing her of sending Naegi alone into danger when every bit of his research on her should have told him she’d never dream of doing that. Plus, Naegi wasn’t stupid. He loved her, but he wasn’t about to jump into a pit of boiling lava just because she asked. What Komaeda said had been lies stacked upon lies and . . .

Yet her neck prickled. Where was Naegi? Surely though, he was nearby, investigating. She should call him. Check on his progress.

She punched in his number and waited. The phone didn’t ring before it went to voice mail, indicating his was off.

 _(But there was another situation where that had happened, wasn’t there? When the dog had disappeared, and they had gone looking . . ._ )

She wasn’t even aware of walking out of the storage room or looking around. It felt like teleportation to her. Naegi wasn’t within sight and . . .

. . . Was she really going to consider what Komaeda had said?

She walked out into the garden and took up a hidden position nearby.

How long she waited, she didn’t know. But it was long enough for her to relax and convince herself that Komaeda had, indeed, been lying. Naegi wasn’t out here. He was inside somewhere, looking for her and . . .

Naegi stepped out of the forest.

She stayed where she was, tracking him as he shoved open the garden gates and then retreated into the church. Naegi had been out there? Why . . .? He must have thought of a good lead and upon being unable to find her, pursued it himself. Naegi didn’t believe Tanaka was that dangerous anyways, certainly not as dangerous as he thought Komaeda was. It must not be a big deal to him.

Whatever Naegi’s reasoning, she was sure it wasn’t a big deal. She would approach Naegi herself and lay this to rest once and for all.

And so, she did. She found Naegi in the church and asked about where he had gone. He regaled her with a tale of needing to go to the washroom, of annoying cheeks pinches from Enoshima, of Yonaga wanting to style his ahoge, Enoshima teasing him, and hiding in the men’s washroom from both.

He didn’t mention the woods.

“Anything else?” she prompted.

“Nope. That’s about it.”

“I see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Owada struggles to deal with Fujisaki's passing.


	23. Chapter 23

If they had still been driving back and forth from Hope’s Peak, she would have let him drive. Not because she was falling asleep on her feet, as she had claimed to Naegi when she cut the day short, but because of her overwhelming need to watch him. She trailed behind him as they walked to the bus stop, gaze trained on the small of his back. When they boarded, she stood instead of sitting, as the position allowed her to comfortably keep an eye on him. There was no real answer to what she was looking for. She just watched. She had to. Naegi had lied to her, and that went against the natural order of the world. Did he think she would get mad at him for going off on his own? Honestly, she couldn’t deny that she was upset, especially given the hypocritical speech he had given her about investigating creepy places alone, but he should still tell her the truth.

Her brain felt like one of Tanaka’s hamsters had climbed inside and was using it as a wheel. It spun around and around with no concern for how dizzy she was, or how much it creaked. What bothered her too was that Naegi hadn’t noticed anything amiss; he was usually sensitive to her moods. He was busy, though, choosing to watch the landscape as it zoomed by the window. He was thinking. About what? Had he found something? Perhaps he was still gathering pieces together evidence for a theory he had. But why not say anything? She could help him with that. She told him everything, didn’t she? Well, okay, that wasn’t true, but Naegi himself acknowledged her as the superior detective, so it shouldn’t matter.

She couldn’t ask him for the truth, not until she knew why he was lying. With the addition of the fact that he wasn’t paying attention to her, it left her to wade in a cesspool of frustration. By the time the bus dropped them off, she was having fantasies about throwing him into a chair and interrogating him like one of her suspects, or pinning him up against a wall, their bodies pressed together, and . . . and . . .

She needed to cool down. She could focus on the walk for now.

Their walk home was quiet. Naegi, she knew, sensed the awkwardness. Yet he chose to do nothing about it. He stayed a few steps in front of her, gaze fixed firmly ahead, his intentions transparent as glass. He ended up in the house before her, and that was the only reason she saw it: him, standing in the middle of the foyer, staring at nothing.

“Are you okay?” she asked, pointedly looking at him.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just distracted.”

She believed that, but she didn’t believe it was benign. His eyes hadn’t scrunched up with joy or embarrassment, but had remained focused and watchful; his stare lingered on her shoulders, as he knew her face would betray little. He was looking at her, but his body pointed not towards her, but off to the side, betraying defensiveness.

_Why?_

She couldn’t bring herself to ask; some mix of pride and hurt held her back. Naegi, moving too quickly to be entirely natural, waved and then retreated upstairs.

She didn’t follow him. She remained downstairs in an armchair, not really thinking about much, just being frustrated. She _hated_ secrets she wasn’t privy to. He knew that. He should know better.

Then, the doorbell rang and broke her mind out of that dark spiral. When she opened it, there was a surprising guest present.

“Yo. You busy?” Owada Mondo asked.

She stepped aside. “Come in.”

Out of childish spite, she didn’t call Naegi down, even though he was the one who usually dealt with their coworkers. Surprisingly, Owada didn’t ask for him either. He went straight for the first chair Kirigiri pointed out and sunk into it. His whole being spoke of weariness, from his sagging shoulders to his wilted spine.

“. . . I’m sorry,” she said after a long silence.

Owada barely acknowledged that. “Can’t believe Bro had to find ‘im alone. Should have been there.”

 _It wouldn’t have made a difference_ , was what she wanted to say, but she didn’t think he would take that well.

“I went back to the room Taka found him in,” Owada said. “Dunno why. Thought maybe I would find a ‘ _Sorry about your brain_ ’ card or something. You know, something that I shoulda seen earlier and woulda told me he needed help. Stupid. If it was that obvious, someone as smart as him would have saved himself.”

He shifted, veins on his arms bulging. She said nothing and waited.

“I found his notebook on the ground and took it with me. Dunno if Togami would have gotten mad, but . . . it’s the last thing he was doing and shit. I just need to know and . . . I’ve tried to read the last entries five fucking times, but I don’t get it and I gotta. I gotta _understand_. I . . . I just need to know what he was thinking ‘fore he passed out.”

Owada’s huge hands almost concealed the small notebook he held out to her. She recognized the cover: the plain, journal-like notebook splattered with cute pictures of puppies, kittens and all the other stickers Asahina gave out. She started flipping through the pages –

“Hey! Don’t read the whole fucking thing!” Owada barked. “That could be private shit. Just go near the end.”

She started flipping chucks of pages at a time. It wasn’t hard to find what she was looking for, as she instantly recognized the symbols from the scripture. One line would contain various symbols, and the line below would contain real letters. In all cases, these had ended up crossed out as Fujisaki tried and failed again and again to translate the cipher. It went on for pages.

It . . . literally went on for pages.

For the first couple of pages, she didn’t notice anything wrong. But between the third and fourth, she noticed it: the lines were repeating. Fujisaki was writing the same scripture symbols on the same lines over and over – which made sense if he was beginning his translation with those. But the letters he was trying to match them too also remained the same. She could see that happening a few times, but over a page’s worth of time, and sequentially? To not notice that was impossible . . . Unless Fujisaki had already been suffering from the effects of the aneurysm. She had evidence to point towards that. The writing became darker as the pages went on, as if the writer had been pressing the pen deeper into the paper. That could be from stress, or from dizziness. More notably, for the last unfinished letter, so much weight had been leaned on it that the paper had ripped. And at its very tail, a looping line ran from the letter to the very edge of the page.

This, indeed, had been the last thing Fujisaki had saw.

“He was trying to translate the religious text of Hope’s Peak for me,” she told Owada. “It looks like his illness struck while he was working on that.”

Saying that, she realized as Owada’s face went pale, was a mistake.

“Hope’s Peak,” Owada muttered. “That’s the bastards who killed Chuck, right? Now they . . . those fuckers are behind this, too!”

Owada’s voice dropped in pitch, his words rumbling through the room like the roar of a crocodile.

Although his theory was the same as hers, she denied it anyways. It was irresponsible to led him to conclusions based on faulty evidence and besides. . . she could see Owada’s emotions. She could see the way his feet pressed into the floor and his toes curled, as if he were about to leap to his feet and go after them. Owada, hurt and grieving, was also dangerous.

Unfortunately, he didn’t quite believe her. “Bullshit! I know they’re behind this!”

“Owada-kun, please try to think about this logically. How can someone give another person a brain aneurysm?”

“Why the fuck would I know? I ain’t a doctor!”

If grief did one good thing, it kept him from fighting her for long. ‘Too much bullshit,’ he claimed, although she suspected he simply couldn’t keep up with her arguments. He was gone before long, leaving her alone at the front door, watching him slouch off into the darkness. It left her in a perfect spot to see that foreign sigil on her front door. Seeing it there, after this awful day, after she just had to deal with Fujisaki’s best friend and his grief, was simply unacceptable.

Naegi had been unable to paint over it, but there were other ways to get rid of paint. She went into the tool cabinet, took out the paint scraper, made sure her gloves had metaphorically melded to her skin, and set to work.

It was difficult to find an angle to work with. The paint of the sigil melded smoothly with the wall. There were no protruding bits or chips, and she felt that if she proceeded, she was going to damage the door. Eventually, she settled on a place, and dug in.

As she had expected but didn’t want, the paint didn’t chip at all, though she’d left a mark in the wood. That was fine. It was the first strike. She repositioned the chipper and dug it in again –

“ _Argh!_ ”

At the exact moment the blade dug into the sigil, a nauseating pain rocketed up her arm. It felt like something had reached inside and twisted her muscles and bones around each other. Her arm seemed to physically twist with it, round and round like limp spaghetti. The chipper fell to the ground with a clang, and she followed a moment later.

The pain grew and waned with her heartbeat. Each cycle found her arm hurting a little less, found the pain retreating towards her extremities. But her _hand_. Hidden beneath her glove, it felt like her skin had been replaced by sandpaper, and it scraped against her every time it shifted. She could feel her pulse in her palm, throbbing.

She shouldn’t do it. She knew that. But she pulled the glove off anyways and even before it was fully off her hand, she knew something was very, _very_ wrong.

Kirigiri’s hands had always been off-colour, ever since the _incident_. But not this, not this deep red. Right when the gloves cleared her wrists, she began to see the first traces of blood. Her scarred skin was cracked, oozing blood, blackened in places, carrying a gut-churning smell of burnt flesh. It was like. . . it was like. . . it was exactly how her hand had been immediately after the fire –

(And for the first time in a very long time. . .)

(She was afraid.)

Put the wound under cold water. Do not use ice. Lay flat. Elevate feet. She knew too little and too much at once. It was coming too fast, the instructions out of order, nonsensical when she tried to compare them to the fleeting memories of her grandfather’s treatment. Somehow, the first instruction managed to stick with her, and she stumbled to the kitchen and thrust her hand under the sick. The cold water burned; she felt it, but didn’t register it, and before long, her hand was numb anyways. The chill had swept up her arm, too, and frozen her mind, as it remained stuck on the second instruction.

“Kyoko?”

She didn’t answer him. Naegi ran over and – god, she _hated_ how her arm was shaking. He grabbed her wrist to steady it, giving her those wide, nervous eyes he was so good at. Then he – _why would he try to remove her hand from the water_? She shoved him aside with her good hand and turned the faucet knob even more.

“Kyoko, what’s wrong?” he cried.

“My hand -!” She tried to swallow her panic down, but it backfired and bounced back in a slurry of words. “The sigil, it _burned_ me. It’s at least second-degree. . . I can’t remember what to do.”

She had a strange urge to gnaw on her fingernails, even as that hand was oozing blood right in front of her. Did she. . . She needed to go to the hospital, didn’t she? Her toes curled at the thought.

“Kyoko . . .” Naegi started to reach for her, but his hand stopped midway. “. . . What are you talking about?”

She stared at him. It took a while to get her thoughts in order. “My _hand_. You can’t see it very well because it’s in the water, but . . .”

“Hey, let me see it.” Naegi tried to nudge her hand out of the water.

“Don’t!” She grabbed his wrist with her free hand.

“Kyoko. . .”

“It needs to stay under there for ten minutes. Perhaps twenty? I can’t remember.”

“Kyoko.”

“We don’t need to go to the hospital for this. I can handle it. It’s fine –”

He turned the water off.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” She tried to turn it back on, but Naegi threw his body into the fight, and held his ground. _Idiot!_ He knew better!

“Kyoko, calm down. Just look at your hand for a second.”

Somehow, she made herself. She may have been leaning away from it as she did, but she still did it. Her hand was scarred, and . . .

And that was it. There were no oozing wounds, or blackened flesh. She flexed the muscles, and no hidden pain appeared. Turning it over revealed nothing she wasn’t familiar with.

She turned her hand over again. “I. . . I saw it. I _smelt_ it.” (She turned it over again.) “It was burning.” (Turned it again.)

“I don’t doubt that you felt it,” Naegi said. “I don’t even doubt that you smelt it. But your hand. . .”

“I’m not making this up!”

He took a step back in surrender. “I wasn’t going to say that!”

Her arm was still trembling. She grabbed it and forced it to stop.

“You’re upset,” he said. “You’re really scared. If I had to theorize. . . Do you think it’s possible you had a flashback?”

“. . . I don’t have PTSD.”

“You might,” Naegi said.  “Or you’re right and you don’t, and this was a one-off thing. Uh, what triggered it anyways?”

She told him. As she spoke, the small comforting smile he wore flickered into dust. His face was eerily blank. In fact, it reminded her of . . . Well, herself.

“The sigil? You mean the one on the front door.”

“What other one is there?” she asked testily, still on edge.

“I, uh, I understand.” He was unable to keep eye contact. “Well, if that’s what triggered it, you should leave it alone. I don’t want to see that happen again. I can take care of it once we’re not busy with this case.”

“We can’t leave it there.”

Strangely defensive, Naegi said, “It’s just a drawing. Nothing’s going to happen if we leave it alone for a while.”

“A drawing made by _them_ ,” she stressed.

“You. . .” He blinked and there was emotion there, but she wasn’t sure what. “Wait, you have proof it was them?”

“I don’t have proof,” she said. “But who else would it be?”

“I guess that’s true. But it is still just a drawing.”

She scowled. Naegi, seeing this, shuffled closer. Seeing how close they already were, this left him brushing against the sensitive skin of her arm, his breath warming her shoulder.

“Everything’s okay. I know what happened scared you, but you’re okay.” He said softly. He ran his fingers over her scarred – but uninjured – palm for emphasis. Most of the skin’s feeling in that hand had died in the fire long ago, but she still somehow felt his touch.

“You should come to bed,” he said. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

She said nothing. She didn’t agree to his proposal. She didn’t tell him her heart was still pounding. She didn’t tell him that the scent of her burnt flesh was still stuck in her nose.

And she especially didn’t tell him that when he kissed her the back of her injured hand, his lips had burnt black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri tries to get her hands on a particular scripture.


	24. Chapter 24

Kirigiri woke groggily. There was a flutter in her chest that she didn’t understand. That flutter tightened into tension as she sat up and the sheets slipped from her body. She checked beside her; Naegi was gone. She hoped nightmares hadn’t kept him up again.

She reached for the cup on the nightstand. However, when she next reached for the pitcher, she frowned. Naegi had polished it off again? He could at least have refilled it.

She did so, walking into the kitchen with the pitcher. Surprisingly, Naegi wasn’t there, nor was he in the living room. She was a little curious where he was, but she didn’t look for him and returned to her bedroom with the filled pitcher.

“Makoto?”

Naegi jumped a little when she said his name. He looked at her from inside the bedroom. Where had he come from? There was a hint of red to his cheeks, suggesting he had been somewhere cold . . . outside? She hadn’t noticed any of the doors unlocked.

“You’re awake early, huh?” he said. “When did you get up?”

“Not that long ago,” she said. The question of where he had been danced on her lips, but she stayed silent.

With Naegi present, she felt obliged to return to bed, as if to set an example. Naegi settled in next to her, though he chose to sit instead of lying down.

“Kyoko, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she said.

“When you tried to get rid of that sigil, you said it looked like your hands had been burnt again, right?”

 _Looked_ like. As if she were nothing more than a hysterical child crying wolf. “I did. Why?”

“I just . . . I’m trying to understand why it would do that. You said you burned your hands during a case.”

She snorted. “Don’t remind me.”

“Ah.” Naegi fiddled with his thumbs. It was a very clear indicator of what he was thinking, and she wasn’t surprised when he asked her, “Would it be okay if you told me about it?”

“I’m surprised you’ve never asked before,” she said. But, that childish instinct of his to please and not offend was one of the things she liked about him. “It was very shortly after my father left. I assume I must have been distracted by his cowardice and acted carelessly. My grandfather had been nearby though and thankfully, he was able prevent anything more than this scarring.”

She turned her hands over and back. A reminder of duty and sacrifice.

“What are you thinking?” she asked Makoto when he didn’t immediately offer her sympathy.

“It’s just . . . your word choice there. You _assume._ ”

“Yes?”

“Kyoko. . . do you actually remember what happened?”

“It’s quite difficult to forget staring at your crippled hands for the first time,” she said wryly.

“Not that. The case,” he said. “What about the case?”

“My memories of the aftermath vastly overshadow the nuances of the case itself.” He was staring at her. “What?”

He shook his head. “. . . Nothing. What can you tell me about the aftermath?”

“My grandfather treated me. If it wasn’t for his quick actions, it would have been much worse than these scars.” She turned her hands over again. “I ended up in a burn unit at a local hospital. It was unpleasant.”

“How did it happen?” Naegi asked. “Was it an explosion, or a fire, or . . .”

“Fire.” She knew that for certain, as she remembered screaming as realized what was happening, her grandfather pulling her away and thrusting her hands under the cold water.

Naegi was staring at her again.

“What?” she asked again.

“How did a fire only burn your hands?”

It was an interesting question. Fires, by their nature, were not a precise weapon. That meant the blaze was likely to have been small and contained. Which begged the question of why her hands had been in that area to begin with. Had the fire been contained within a cavity, unable to be seen from outside? Though it would be odd to stick both hands in at once or not notice the heat until it was too late.

“Again, I’m not certain about the details.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m not answering these questions very well.”

“Actually,” Naegi said, his stare distant, “I think you did.”

* * *

An odd dread engulfed her as she stared at the towering figure of Hope’s Peak. She forced it aside, not letting it slow her steady footsteps. She shoved the gate open and walked into the always-empty parking lot, wondering not for the first time, why they had bothered to install it. Naegi treaded next to her, always a little behind.

“Here again, huh?” he sighed.

“. . . Let’s go.”

She was starting to know this place too well. Even before the doors opened, she saw the elaborate interior in her mind. When she closed her eyes, it wasn’t nothingness that greeted her, but the dark silhouette of the church. Accompanying it was the horrible, grating tones of Komaeda. . . Oh wait, he really was talking to her.

“Welcome back!” Komaeda said. “We were about to have breakfast. Did you want to join us?”

“No.”

Komaeda clucked his tongue, as if she was a pouting toddler. “Whatever you say, Kirigiri-san. But what about Naegi-kun? He needs protein to grow big and strong, doesn’t he?”

Naegi grumbled. “I’m not growing any taller, Komaeda-kun. Doctor said so.”

Komaeda laughed. “Listening to doctors. . . That’s adorable!”

She walked right past him.

“If you change your mind, my offer still stands!” Komaeda called after them.

They waited until Komaeda left for the kitchen. Then Naegi turned to her and asked, “What are we doing here?”

“. . . We’re investigating the murder of Nanami Chiaki,” Kirigiri said slowly, worried that he had bumped his head.

“Yes, I know,” he said. “But what are we looking for?”

“Evidence. What else?”

“Do you have a plan for the day?”

She wasn’t _feeling_ anything, but her chest tightened regardless. “I know this case is wearing on you more than you’ve admitted. I’m not going to force you to be here. If you don’t feel safe –”

“I’m not letting you come here alone!” he snapped.

“Very well,” she said. “Try to refrain from going outside. There’s a good chance that Tanaka is within the area.”

She saw it: the little cringe. Naegi’s guilt-driven cringe used to be a full-body one, obvious to anyone who saw him. Years of dealing with suspects had crushed most of that reaction out of him, but his neck still scrunched whenever someone called him out on doing wrong.

 _Komaeda was right_. She could almost see those hazy words inscribed in the air above him. Naegi had gone outside alone. He had gone to Tanaka’s home. Why? To seek him out?

No. She couldn’t obsess over it. It meant _nothing_. Komaeda was a criminal and a liar; Tanaka a lunatic. Naegi was her partner.

“Kamukura let something slip last time we were here.” She told him quickly about the scriptures and what that meant. “Remember when you tried to grab that copy on the altar? I’m willing to bet it was Komaeda’s.”

“So, we’re trying to find that scripture, but hoping we don’t?”

“Come to think of it, we saw that scripture after I had already grabbed one,” she said. “Which means the one we have likely belongs to either Enoshima or Ikusaba.”

“So, we’re not looking for Komaeda’s scripture?”

“We still are. He tried once to stop us from looking inside, which means there’s a good chance there’s something incriminating in there. It’s worth a look. As you can see though, it’s no longer on the altar.”

“Then it could be in his room,” Naegi murmured.

“Are you okay with searching his room?” she asked. “I’ll scout the area and make sure no one catches you.”

Very soon after, the plan was set. Just as she promised, she quietly scoured the area, locating each member of the church and ensuring Naegi’s path would be clear. She stood guard at the bottom of the stairs as discreetly as she could afterwards; she had found everyone on the ground floor, so he would be safe.

Naegi returned empty-handed.

“His room is _weird!_ ” Naegi hissed. “But I can’t see where he could have hidden it in there, so I guess that means it’s on him or he forgot it somewhere. Like maybe when they were doing a super weird and creepy ritual.”

A ritual? A light lit up in her brain. She knew exactly where it had gone.

“Down in the caverns, I found an altar that must be used for rituals,” she said quietly as they stood in front of the closed door to the confessional. “If Komaeda did leave it somewhere, it would be there.”

“Down there? _In_ there?”

Naegi had backed away from the confessional, hands shaking. He chewed on his bottom lip, head turned away like a submissive dog. She understood immediately where this reaction was coming from: he wasn’t over whatever had happened to him in the confessional.

She laid her hand on his cheek. “You don’t need to come with me. Maybe it’s better if you don’t. You can keep them distracted.”

“But you. . .”

“If I’m not back in two hours, you can sound the alarm,” she said. She held up her phone. “I’ll even text Togami-kun and ask him to check in at noon.”

Naegi still couldn’t bring himself to look in her direction, in the confessional’s direction. “Is finding this scripture really that important?”

She considered his words. Was it? If Komaeda had accidentally left it there after a religious ritual, then surely he would realize that eventually. Either way, he would need to retrieve it for the sermon. Could it wait?

No. Do it now.

She could tell Naegi didn’t like it, but he caved easier than she had expected. Discussing a subject concerning the confessional seemed to have sapped his strength and that only made her more certain that he should remain above ground.

They separated, and Kirigiri went straight for the passage. The benchtop opened easily for her. A curtain of darkness awaited her, but she had learned from experience and had brought a flashlight to ease her travels. She still remembered where to go – it’s not like the caverns were complex – and took the route that would take her to the large room with the strange platform. It was just as she remembered: dark, ominous, empty. She walked into the center of the hand-like platform’s and looked around. Nothing appeared to have changed.

As she stepped off the platform, her foot caught in the small ledge diving the pool from the middle. She stumbled, but caught herself quickly. However, it was enough for her purse to swing, for that movement to draw her attention to a spot. . .

_Could this be? Am I really this lucky?_

She stepped forward. Snuggled against one of the platforms protruding limbs was a worn scripture. She opened the cover and looked at the bottom of the inside pages.

In the rightmost corner, Komaeda Nagito’s name awaited her.

She flipped to the furthest page and immediately recognized the place illustrated there. How could she not when she was literally standing in it? There were differences naturally, but the location was the same. In the drawing however, the room was much more crowded. An audience was surrounding the platform, watching the two people atop it. These two people faced each other as the altered symbol of mercury shone bright on the wall behind them. She assumed they were people, at least. The silhouettes’ proportions were off somehow. Not to mention there were writhing, skinny appendages rising off their shoulders.

She flipped back a page and there it was. That same image of Nanami Chiaki’s corpse in the garden. This one was smaller, taking up the top half of the page instead of the entire thing, and there was writing in the bottom half, like a picture book. She flipped back again and –

What was this? She had stood in this location, too. Not because it was associated with the church, but because she _worked_ there. She was certain that she was looking at the police station, and that suspicion only solidified when she saw the three figures next to it.

“. . . So, they have been watching us.”

Yes. That was the only explanation. Why else would she, Naegi and Togami be in this picture? What worried her was that an ‘X’ sliced through Togami, even though he seemed to have little to do with this case. But, he was their boss. Several people would see that as a reason to target him.

This information also ruled out an earlier theory of Naegi’s. If the order of drawings was accurate, then the drawing of the police station predated the one of Nanami Chiaki, suggesting it was drawn before the murder occurred. In that case, why would Komaeda have studied the police unless he knew a murder would occur? Hope’s Peak hadn’t been framed. They were exactly as guilty as they acted, and this was her smoking gun.

She almost considered stopping there – this was too good to be true – but curiosity drove her to turn the page back and examine what she saw. This picture was much less clear. There was water? Dirt that had fizzled like water? There was a hand sticking out of a mound, reaching for an escape. A dozen smaller hands reached out from the same mound and latched onto the large one, dragging it down underneath. She almost dismissed the large hand, until she noticed the lines depicting wrappings. If she were to match those wrappings to a real person, that left two options: Shinguji, the neutral party; or much more likely, Tanaka, the overt enemy of the church. She wouldn’t be surprised if Tanaka had seen this; it would explain his destiny to be ‘eaten by hell beasts.’

She flipped back another page.

This one was much more complicated. The pages were littered with scribbles. Not only that, but there were three pictures. Two of them were drawn in the professional, thick black lines that had accompanied the other drawings, but one was not. The one near the top-left had been scribbled in with pen, and it seemed to depict someone strangling a much smaller person. There were no hints to the identity of either person. The next picture, in the center, showed a person suspended in thin air while it looked like razor-tipped whips and chains tore at his flesh. The one at the bottom was –

It was her.

Her and her grandfather.

From back when she had been _a child_.

It must have been a trick. Komaeda had gotten his hands on a picture of her younger self. That had to be it. He couldn’t have been watching her that early in her life. There was no reason . . . Unless it hadn’t been her he was watching. Komaeda said their families had met before . . . but her grandfather had been unable to figure out why he had claimed that. Was that the connection? Had Komaeda stalked her grandfather, and then switched to her because she was the Kirigiri heir? This . . .

No. Komaeda Nagito wasn’t much older than her. He would have been a child if this drawing was created when she was that age. Perhaps a Komaeda had stalked her grandfather, but it was not Nagito.

She somehow managed to stuff Komaeda’s scripture into her purse. Forget testimonies. Forget their rooms. _This_ was the important evidence. She had to get this to Naegi and Togami. There had to be _something_ they could pin on Komaeda with this.

The beam of her flashlight bobbed erratically as she jogged up the tunnel. With each step, her heels smacked against the ground with a sound like a gunshot. It startled her the first time, making her head throb and fingers twitch. Anyone down here would hear her . . . and she suddenly became aware of the weight of the knife sheathed at her side.

But if anyone was present, they did not reveal themselves. She moved slower to avoid scraping her body against the rough surroundings. The air was thick and heavy, like she was wading through potent miasma. Her only solace was that the air was warm instead of cold, so she wasn’t freezing to death.

At last, she reached the end of the tunnel and stepped into the awaiting chamber –

. . .

During her two trips there, Kirigiri had studied the altar room closely. There was exactly one tunnel exiting that room, that would lead to the small chamber by which she could reach the underground water or the confessional. That was the layout of the cavern.

So, where was she now?

She stood in a circular room. The chamber she had expected to enter possessed only three exits; this chamber possessed _eight_. They were arranged in a perfect octagon, meaning they were certainly manmade. The real question was how had they gotten here? She wasn’t stupid. She would have noticed before if there were five other exits . . .

Unless someone had concealed them. Like with a sliding door in a storybook castle that revealed a hidden passage. It was the logical explanation, and it should be easy to verify. Two of the passages would lead to areas she was familiar with, and she knew one of them was either the passage directly to her right, or next to that one.

She went through the passage to her immediate right. The darkness swallowed up the chamber behind her quickly, leaving her isolated in the winding tunnel. How it curved this much without bumping into the other ones was a mystery, especially since she didn’t think she was going downhill.

The new chamber she entered was the same as the first with eight exits arranged into a perfect octagon. She’d chosen the wrong path. Yes, she was turning back now – she wasn’t like Asahina. It would be foolish to progress any further and get lost.

She turned around. The way back seemed longer than before, but it was her own boredom speaking. She kept walking until –

What?

This . . .

This was impossible.

The tunnel suddenly dove downward, deep enough her flashlight couldn’t illuminate the bottom. But the passage she had ventured through before had been flat and she had turned directly around so this _was the same passage_. Impossible. A slope like this would have been impossible to miss. Not unless this passage had branched off somewhere and she had somehow missed it . . .

(The tunnel was so narrow; how would she have missed it?)

She went back, looking for this second branch, nearly running into the wall when the tunnel turned a sharp ninety degrees –

It hadn’t done that last time.

“Calm down!” she hissed to herself. She was emoting too much. Her emotions were skewing her perception – that must be the answer. She wasn’t thinking clearly because if she took what she was experiencing at face value. . . Well, it was impossible.

She traced her steps again, trying to find where she had strayed off the main path. Only this was the main path; there were no other paths.

_I would have been going uphill before. Now it is downhill. It’s the perspective change; that’s why I don’t recognize it._

It was the only answer she had. With that firmly in her head, she began to walk down the slope. Gravity tilted with it, threatening to send her tumbling head over heels. Yet she endured, her mask strong even though no one was there to see it.

 _Splash_.

Water?

She looked down. Water lapped at her foot and when she extended the flashlight beam forward, she saw water had pooled in the tunnel for as far as she could see.

_Am I near the lake then?_

This could be the right way. She took a cautious step forward. Then another. The water was cool against her ankles, a contrast to the humid air. She waded further and further, suddenly sympathetic to that time Naegi fell in the swamp.

The slope still went down. The roof above her shrunk, crowding her closer and closer to the water. When it finally reached waist-height, a primal fear shuddered through her nerves. This wasn’t right. She needed to turned back.

So, she did. She waded back the way she came and –

Smacked into a wall.

_What . . . what is this?_

She laid her hand against the wall. Then smacked it. This wasn’t here before. This couldn’t _have_ been here before. She groped under the water, in case the water level had risen and that was why she couldn’t find an opening. But there was nothing. Nothing but sheer rock barring her path.

Impossible.

Yet here she was.

She didn’t even realize her phone was out until the light shone in her face. Dread rising in her gullet, she looked down.

No signal.

As expected. She put the phone away. She turned slowly, her back against the wall, as if it could protect her.

Where the hell was she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri regrets everything.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Early update~
> 
> Next Saturday should be the last time this story updates early on the weekend.

There was no sound. Unless she focused, she couldn’t even hear her own breathing. Her flashlight tried valiantly, but the water and the darkness beyond swallowed the light greedily. Cool water sat just below her waist; her skirt clung to her legs.

 _Drip._ A drop of water fell from the ceiling, rolling down her back like the stroke of an icy finger. She flinched, and then mentally chastised herself for that display of weakness. She tried to, at least, but then the earth groaned and her thoughts froze.

She . . . she needed to get out of here. There was only one route she could take now: forward, deeper into the water. The thought made her shiver, and she told herself that her reaction was because of the cold, nothing else. She trudged forward; her legs dragged in water that felt like slime. Ripples radiated out before her, bouncing off walls, rolling ahead into darkness and not returning. The uneven texture of the stone walls decorated them in patches of odd shadows.

The water reached her stomach now. She gritted her teeth at the sensation and moved forward. Strange pains were blooming in her legs: numbness. The cold was getting to them, and her muscles began to complain as she forced them into action. She hoisted her purse onto her shoulder, keeping her precious evidence safe, holding the flashlight high in her other hand.

And still the path went downwards.

The water was just below her chest when the purse scraped against the ceiling; for as the floor sunk, so had the ceiling. She made her biggest mistake then: looking up. Her eyes didn’t widen, but only because she didn’t let them. If she were to jump, she would have surely sliced her scalp open on the rough rock above.

What was that?

She . . . For a moment, she thought something had slipped past her legs unseen. Just when she was about to attribute it to nothing, it came again: a fleeting touch, like the brush of a fish’s fin. Fine. That was fine. Nothing wrong with fish. It may not even be that; it could be her skirt, swaying under the surface.

 _The air is stale down here. Poor circulation,_ the analytical part of her brain said. Yes, that was normal. Caves were not very open to the world. Air could remain trapped down here for years.

She continued onward. At the very least, the water appeared to have stopped rising. She trudged onward through an unending tunnel, both ends of which led straight into darkness. She couldn’t feel her toes.

 _Poor circulation implies a poor redistribution of oxygen,_ her mind chattered. Also true. Carbon dioxide could pool in these areas like liquid.

Although the floor no longer went downward, the ceiling was still lowering. She swore it was touching her hair. As she stared into the distance, the space between ceiling and water seemed to get even narrower.

_There was an incident several years ago. Some teenagers had discovered an underwater tunnel that led to a small cavern above water. The first visit went as planned, and the teenagers left without harm, vowing to return the next year._

Something made the surface jump, and water whipped her on the neck. The shock stopped her legs and without the momentum, she couldn’t seem to get them to work again.

_The next year, the teenagers returned. They travelled through the tunnel to the cavern. But they hadn’t realized that their previous expedition had used up most of the oxygen in the cavern, and it didn’t renew._

Did . . . did her flashlight flicker?

_When they surface and realized there was no air, they panicked and tried to swim back._

Her lungs were burning, straining like a balloon about to hit its bursting point.

_But the first one drowned during the swim back, dooming the rest -  
_

“ _That’s enough!_ ”

Her voice rang through the tunnel. Her body slumped, chin breaking the water’s surface. Something – fear? – burst out of her in a ragged gasp that burned her throat.

“Calm down,” she hissed to herself. There had been a way in; there would be a way out. Naegi knew about the cavern. She was fine. Everything was fine.

She kept going. She had to.

The tunnel stretched out into eternity. She wondered more than once if the light from her flashlight was dimming. Then she saw it: a slope of rock that extended out of the water beyond. She scrambled towards it, nearly tripping, feeling like she was walking into sunlight as she surged up that slope and out of the water.

She stumbled into a small room. two tunnels, including the one she had used, split from this place –

She hadn’t seen this room before.

Her legs felt like they were about to buckle, but she made them hold strong. None of this made sense. Where was she? How did she keep entering these new areas? Was someone toying with her? That was the only conclusion she could draw, because it certainly felt true.

She started to move forward, then faltered. Which path should she take? Did it even matter? Because if past experience was anything to go by, it didn’t seem to.

 _Stop. There’s a logical explanation for this. I just haven’t figured it out yet_.

In the worst-case scenario, Naegi would alert Togami and the entire police department would come down here looking for her. Things would be fine. She was fine.

Before she entered the new tunnel, her flashlight happened to illuminate the wall near her. This wall wasn’t flat and featureless like the ones in the water-logged tunnel. There were images – eyes – carved into the stone. Just eyes, dozens upon dozens, if not hundreds of eyes. They stretched to all corners of the wall and covered the ceiling. She turned her head away and kept going.

The tunnel widened. She could have walked side by side with a person now. it gave her comfort, because this section of the underground seemed more lived in. The walls had a slight pattern to them instead of being bare: there were ridges, shelves almost, that cut through them horizontally and divided the wall into thirds. But she soon regretted noticing that because just as those primal instincts had relaxed, she realized those weren’t stones sitting on the ridges.

They were skulls.

Not human ones, thankfully. They must have belonged to animals, because humans didn’t have sharp, skinny teeth. She couldn’t tell what creatures they had belonged to, but whatever they were, they had protruding jaws and massive eye sockets. It physically disgusted her to think about them, to think about _why_ they were here.

The mouth of the tunnel ahead had a metal frame for support. She examined it briefly, looking for decay. Her background knowledge told her that the decay of biomaterials was hampered in caves, but abiotic substances? That was something she didn’t have expertise in. If she had to guess though, the amount of moisture present would provide good conditions for rust formation. In that case, it was reasonable to assume this place wasn’t abandoned, as the frame was acceptably clean.

_They’ll find me. There must be a better map out there than what Tanaka has._

Still, it would be best if it didn’t come to that. If Komaeda or one of the others found her, that would be disastrous.

The path went down again.

She stood at the very top of the slope. The thought of going further down, of getting even further from the surface, was _very_ unwelcome. But this was the only path available.

She hadn’t really noticed before, but in the parts of the cave she had tread so far, the floor had been deliberately smoothed. Now, she realized that, because this slope was not even. Her heels caught and slipped dangerously, and she nearly sliced her forehead open on a point on the wall.

The slope did not descend as deep as the one that had led to water. As she realized this, as she realized the floor before her had leveled out, it felt like someone had removed a large rock from her stomach. She had no interest in wading again.

The cave had narrowed again. The passage was no longer rectangular, but diamond-like. Wooden beams held up the edges of the diamond, making her squeeze through their openings. It was slow-going and –

 _Crack_.

She whipped around at the sound –

But the damp, uneven stone made for poor traction. Before she knew it, her foot had caught on something and the world went topsy-turvy. Her arm met the stone wall and _scraped_ , and she could feel the flesh peeling away.

She landed hard on the ground, unable to hold back a cry of pain. The arm of her jacket was torn and ragged where it had scraped against the cave wall, and her blood had splattered the wall. She didn’t need to examine her arm; she could _feel_ exactly where the wounds were.

She stayed there in the dark, holding her wounded arm close to her body, flashlight pointed towards where she thought that sound had originated. Seconds passed. Minutes. Nothing. No sign of what had caused her to startle. Whatever she had heard, it must have been earth settling or something otherwise benign. _Nothing_ was down here with her.

She laid her flashlight on her lap and with her uninjured arm, gathered up what she had dropped. Then, she forced herself to her feet, her arm moaning in pain as her muscles contracted and shifted the flesh around them. Her pulse was heavy in those wounds, the pain coming and going like the tide, worsening whenever she took a step. She ended up wrapping her tie around her arm, the pressure helping to dull the pain.

She staggered forward, wary now, her arm reminding her every second why she needed to take it slow. Ahead, her flashlight lit up a rectangular opening and she wanted badly to run towards it, toward the the end of the tunnel.

When she finally reached that opening, she found herself in another round room. This one had seen life before. There was an altar in the centre, about chest high, with what appeared to be a large stone chalice anchored to its stand. On either side, a rectangular pillar rose from the ground, each decorated with writing. And beyond them, leading out of the room, was another seven exits.

As she looked at each exit one by one, as she failed to recognize any of them, a heavy feeling settled on her shoulders. Her legs were wet and sore, cramping now that she had stopped moving again. Her arm still stung, with the nerves sparking occasionally just to make sure she didn’t get used to it. Her body felt stretched like an elastic band, aching and yearning to coil up. She checked her phone again: no signal.

two in the afternoon. She and Naegi had arrived around ten. She’d been here for four hours. No wonder she was exhausted. At this rate, who knew how long it would take to find a way out.

She closed her eyes.

She . . .

She needed help.

Naegi must have noticed her absence by now. He would have alerted Togami, and Togami would bring others to sweep the cave. They were looking for her.

Hardly noticing she was doing it, she slid down a pillar and hit the ground. She . . . she needed to wait for help. Naegi would find her, and she would let him and even Togami tell her that they had told her so.

 _I shouldn’t waste my batteries_ , she thought. The cave was quiet enough that she would hear help long before they saw her. She turned off the flashlight and the world snapped into complete darkness.

Kirigiri had investigated abandoned mansions with shuttered windows; she had investigated old, rank basements sealed from the world for a dozen years; she had prowled crowded forest in the middle of the night without a flashlight. But none of those experiences had compared to this. This was a completely new level of darkness, so abnormal, so _unreal_ that bursts of white seemed to explode in front of her eyes in protest. There was a literal mass to the darkness, weighting down her body. Shutting her eyes didn’t make it much better.

She was glad it was humid and warm, because now that she was no longer moving, the chill of her soaked garments was spreading to her body. She twisted her skirt, wringing out a few drops. Her soles ached, unused to making direct contact with the ground.

_Why . . . why is it warm here?_

No, she wouldn’t bother with that question. She was no geologist.

There weren’t many options for comfort. She peeled off her jacket, wincing when fabric grazed her sensitive arm, and balled it up. It made for an incredibly crude pillow that wasn’t much better than laying her head against the ground. She tucked her knees in close and tried to ignore the discomfort. She needed to regain energy for the hike out.

The dark and silence were there when she fell asleep. They were there when she woke. The only sign that time had passed was that her neck and back had a crick in them, and that she felt colder. She groaned; she hadn’t meant to doze off.

How much time had she wasted? She managed to pull her cellphone out of her purse and check the time.

Eleven in the evening.

That was longer than she had expected. She hadn’t expected to have been asleep for _hours_ , given how much her body still hurt. In the dim light of her phone, she could see dried blood that had trickled down her wrist and stopped. She prodded into it with her other hand; prying the dried blood off hurt like ripping off a bandage.

She shouldn’t move. They were looking for her by now. There wasn’t much to do but wait.

Time passed. She checked her purse, hoping that Naegi had snuck a snack in there, but there was nothing. There was nothing to do. She couldn’t even rouse the will to think.

Time passed.

Four in the morning.

This was normal. Naegi would have alerted Togami at noon, and then Togami would have to take time to organize a rescue party. Once they learned she was underground, they would have to create a strategy to sweep the cave. They’d only been searching for a few hours at this point.

Her throat was dry. It itched, but it was easy to ignore when the throbbing in her arm was worse. It wasn’t like she would die of dehydration –

She wouldn’t reach that point. She had faith in Naegi and the others. She . . . she might just be a little uncomfortable until then.

* * *

The next time she woke up, she _knew_ : no one was coming.

There was no evidence to back up that claim, but instinct wasn’t something to dismiss blindly either, and Kirigiri’s instincts were well-honed. Something had gone wrong. Perhaps they hadn’t been able to figure out how to get into the caverns, perhaps they had gone a different way (she remembered walls and curves popping out of nowhere); whatever the answer, the outcome was the same. They weren’t coming for her.

That conviction hit her with startling clarity. It. . . this didn’t feel like fear. Fear made the hair on the back on your neck rise, made your heart race and your muscles contract. This felt like the opposite, felt like weights had replaced her limbs and that her heart had stopped completely. She could feel the air in her lungs as it pushed outwards against her flesh.

She rose on weak legs. The flashlight clicked on but – it must have been her mind playing tricks on her – it was dimmer than before. She pointed the flashlight at each exit in turn. Which one was she supposed to take? She couldn’t even recognize the one she entered through.

_Rip._

She tore a paper out of Komaeda’s scripture and placed it on one of the thresholds to mark the path she was taking. There was no wind, so it shouldn’t move. She hated this, hated this idea of moving into the unknown and possibly entering an even more desolate section, but she couldn’t stay here. If she stayed, she would never get out.

If she stayed . . .

She would die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> help me


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prepare for the greatest mindfuck ever.
> 
> Also, I _think_ this story is around its midway point.

Two days.

It’d been a full forty-eight hours since she ventured into the caverns.

She had no idea where she was. She didn’t think she had returned to any of the areas she had scoured before, but she had no idea where she was; she didn’t even know if she was at a higher or lower altitude. Cold sweat dotted her body, stinging when it licked the wounds on her arm. Dehydration was having its toll, too. The back of her mouth and throat felt blistered and peeled, the raw flesh underneath exposed, and her empty stomach wasn’t doing much better.

There was a sudden dip in the ground, and she nearly slammed face-first into rock. The rapid footsteps she had to take to maintain her balance propelled her into the next section of the cave, where the tunnel opened into a room. She raised her flashlight to look around . . .

One of the exits had a piece of paper sitting in its threshold.

In the center of the room, there was an altar with a chalice.

She was back where she had started.

She walked up to the altar, and then sagged against it, legs buckling. She just barely stopped her knees from smashing into the ground. She was back at the beginning after walking for _hours_ , and her body was warning her that it couldn’t take much more. Sure, she’s had days where the work was so intense or dangerous she couldn’t stop to rest or eat properly, but navigating this cave was different. It burned her energy at a rate she was unused to, at a rate that was quickly becoming unsustainable.

She hit the ground. She needed to rest. Returning to this room had wiped away the thin veil of hope that had masqueraded as energy – not that she planned to give up. She simply needed to recharge for a while.

She spent two hours in that pathetic heap. Even that wasn’t enough. Her body fought her, shaking as she pulled herself to her feet with both hands. She ended up leaning over the chalice, hands on the rim, gasping. A bead of sweat dropped from her forehead, disturbing the surface of the liquid below . . .

She blinked. She lowered one hand into the chalice. Her hand was already so damp that she didn’t immediately notice when it became submerged. She tore her hand out of the liquid, cursing; she’d allowed thirst to overcome caution.

So far, she wasn’t experiencing any side effects from touching the liquid. Her nose wasn’t picking up anything unusual either. Could it really be what it seemed: simple water?

The removal of her hand from the water had created ripples. They mesmerized her; she watched as they bounced off edges and crashed into one another. The liquid that had gotten under her glove was cold and stuck to her like glue. At the same time, her mouth burned. Cracked lips smacked against each other.

The droplet she tested tasted like water. It slid down her throat like water, leaving a refreshing trail behind like she had sucked on a mint. An hour. That’s how long she’d wait to see if there were any ill effects from ingesting it.

Two minutes later, she told herself she had waited long enough. She dipped a cupped hand into the water and drank deeply. The cool liquid flowed through her, quenched the burning fields of her throat and filled her stomach. Ah. So, this was what others meant when they spoke of liquid heaven.

She emptied the chalice, snidely thinking to herself how Atua must have left it for her. It did well to quench her thirst but in return, filling her stomach had roused it back to life. Hunger cramps gnawed at her, shuddering along the lining of her stomach. She still felt weak, wanted nothing more than to sleep. But the longer she waited, the worse her condition would become. And the longer she waited, the closer her phone’s battery came to running dry.

She chose a new path, swallowed the lump in her throat, and moved onward. Step by step she went. Each one vibrated through her weary bones. She walked and walked and walked and walked.

And at some point, exhaustion took her.

In the time between waking and opening her eyes, she somehow convinced herself that it was all a dream; that she had fallen asleep at her desk after too much research, and those stories had seeped into her subconsciousness; that the fabric around her shoulders wasn’t her jacket, but a blanket Naegi had lain upon her slumbering form. The murkiness after opening her eyes was from drapes covering the window, not from being underground.

But when she moved, when she felt the rough stone beneath her, when her arm hurt and her empty stomach collapsed in on itself, she knew otherwise.

“Shit!” She scrambled forward and grabbed the flashlight, which was visibly dimmer. She shook it, cursing when the light didn’t brighten. She was on her last batteries. Not only that, but the battery bar on her phone was red. She had but an hour before there would be nothing but darkness.

A prickly sensation crawled up her back. Her throat burned again, but not from thirst.

She had to take a moment. There, huddled on the cold, dark ground, on her knees, she forced her breathing to settle. Her lungs ached with the strain, begging for more air, but she persisted. Control the breathing. The heart would follow. From there, she would become numb like stone. Even still, her heart skipped a beat when she lifted her chin and stared straight into the darkness.

She would be fine. She’d find a way out of this maze.

Twenty minutes later, the flashlight turned off.

The silence rushed in, ringing in her ears. When she shook, her whole body shuddered, like a tree caught in a strong wind. She flicked the switch a few times, hoping. But she’d wrung every bit of strength from that flashlight, and it shone no more.

She checked her phone, her remaining battery life. It wouldn’t last an hour. It pained her to do so, but a small light wasn’t enough, so she turned on the flashlight app.

Although she was tired, she picked up her pace, approaching a jog. She didn’t have the luxury of patience anymore. If that last light went out, the game ended; no fool would think it possible to escape this nightmare in the dark.

The path twisted and turned before her. The cellphone offered much less light than the flashlight and . . . She missed a step and slammed into the wall. An echo of pain in her ankle told her she had come frighteningly close to a sprain.

There wasn’t time to dwell on that. She pushed onward. Gloved fingers skimmed over the cramped walls, digging in and propelling her forward when so required.

She reached another split in the path, chose one in a second, and rushed forward. No point in dropping a piece of paper here. That would waste time, and she didn’t have time to come back and try the other path.

The path tilted upward, winding slowly like a spiraling staircase. Her feet slapped against the ground. The path became flat, opened into a corridor so narrow she had to turn sideways to fit. With one arm stuck out in front, holding her light, she carefully maneuvered her way forward. Rock pressed in on both sides.

Her cellphone beeped. The light went out.

She didn’t need to worry about keeping herself strong and standing; the corridor was so tight it was impossible to sit. She could feel it pressing in on all sides, at every angle. The air was stale and warm from her own body heat and exhales. It was like a snare, and she was the unlucky prey.

_No._

Inch by inch, she moved forward.

_There must be a way out._

First thing she needed to do was get into an area with more space. She felt like a slug sliding across the ground as she moved along the rock, boneless, oozing sweat instead of slime.

_I will not die here._

Those walls, pressing so close, had kept her standing. When she did break into a wider area, she nearly fell over; only her shoulder, still pinched between the rocks, kept her upright. She took a deep breath, and then wriggled free, swearing there was an audible pop as she freed herself. She fell again, elegantly, this time; sinking gracefully to her knees rather than slicing them open.

She had seen cliché movies with Naegi. She knew when the stoic character finally broke, it was always with sobs in the arms of another. But Kirigiri was no movie heroine. She cried alone. Her tears were silent, betrayed by her rattling breaths. In another time, she would have considered her shaking shoulders to be traitors. But not here. Not alone. Not when there would be no caring hero to ease her pain. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying. She didn’t feel sad. She felt nothing. But perhaps nothing was the feeling itself. She should be in pain. Primal instincts should force her to feel something. Yet, each of the little strands of emotions she tried to follow led to frayed ends.

 _Keep going. This is_ not _my grave._

She sunk a hook into her detective training, brought it above the surface like an angler hooking a whale. As it rose, a different kind of numbness took over her. Keep moving. Find the way out. That was her goal, so overpowering that she didn’t even wipe the tears off her face.

She stayed low to the ground, feeling with her hands. Her hair, stringy and dishevelled, stuck out like whiskers. She moved one foot at a time; without light, the ground seemed to be moving under her.

In front of her, her hands met solid rock. Her breath hitched; a dead end? No. No, she wouldn’t accept that. She reached out, felt around on all sides. There was an opening. It was above the ground, about knee-height and flat. She crawled up it. Stone met her nose, but a little above that point of contact, there was another opening. This one, too, led to a flat slate blocked off by another piece of stone that also had an opening on top.

_Is this it? Are these . . .?_

She didn’t finish the thought. She couldn’t bring herself to, couldn’t risk being wrong. She scrambled up the maybe-stairs on all fours like an animal, until the top of her head smashed into something above. What it hit wasn’t stone, though; it didn’t hurt enough.

_Wood._

The single word echoed in her mind, humming with energy. With each echo, the hum grew stronger, its reach further. It began in her core, pulsing outward. Renewed strength flowed into her limbs; she planted her feet, placed her hands on the wood and _pushed_.

At first, it held. At first, nothing happened, and she despaired. But then the latch clicked, and the ceiling gave way. Light – real light – surged into the staircase, slamming into her with a physical force, threatening to send her tumbling back down those stairs. She shielded her eyes; it was still too bright. White sparks burst behind her closed eyelids.

Although she couldn’t see, she couldn’t wait. Blindly, she groped her way out of the staircase, slithering onto the floor like a snake. With her arms still protecting her eyes, she took the risk; she opened her eyes just a crack.

That was a floor before her: the confessional floor. Those were walls made from concrete, not natural rock. This air she breathed was not that which had waited underground for decades.

She had escaped. She had survived. She _lived_.

It wasn’t the first near-death experience Kirigiri lived through, nor would it be the last. But it hit harder than the rest. Her body existed here in the safety of the confessional, but her mind wasted away below ground. She could see what could have been, could _feel_ it. Time zipped ahead, and she imaged herself wither away. How long would she had been down there if she hadn’t found a way out? Would Hope’s Peak have bothered to deliver her remains to the authorities?

In the caverns, it had been impossible to tell, but her skin was pale. Grey-brown dust marred her skin, gathered into clumps from where her sweat had carried and herded the debris. Her forearms and knees presented colourful bruises, while a patchwork of scabs dotted her injured arm. They bent, threatening to crack when she moved; her blood was hot as it rushed through the veins underneath.

As she laid there, some part of her brain managed to start working. What it told her wasn’t that she needed to get her arm treated before infection set in; not that it’d been two days without adequate water or food. It was that she been laying here for ten minutes, after missing for two days, in the exact spot Naegi knew she’d have to reappear in, and no one had found her yet. Was the search team in the caverns? The thought made her queasy. Naegi would have insisted on joining them, and the thought of him down there terrified her.

She pushed her way out of the confessional. The silence, the emptiness that greeted her went against expectation and a part of her panicked, terrified that escape had been a hallucination. But _no_ – she pinched herself harshly, revelling in the sting – that wasn’t the answer. The basecamp must be somewhere else. Perhaps Hope’s Peak had selfishly forbidden the search party from basing themselves inside.

She’d only stumbled a little away from the confessional before a door opened and she heard a voice. It was lively, light, _infuriating_. She wheeled around, sunk her feet in, and prepared to ruin their conversation with her mere presence.

She succeeded. It was just . . .

“. . . K-kyo. . . K-Kyoko?”

Naegi . . . had been off gallivanting with Ikusaba while she was missing? He stood there, gormless, Ikusaba holding his upper arm. Ikusaba looked surprised, _guilty._

“Kyoko . . . Kyoko, are you okay? What. . . happened?” He didn’t approach her, as if a glass wall sat between them. Maybe there was, because there was a strange hollow cadence to his speech.

“What do you mean what happened?” she said quietly.

“What do I mean? You. . . Look at you,” he said, as if she were at fault here. “You’re dirty and your jacket’s ripped up and . . . is that _blood_?”

His voice cracked on the last word. He surged forward oddly, unbalanced as if Kirigiri had yanked him toward her. Ikusaba had the gall to tighten her grasp for a second, before she remembered Naegi’s _girlfriend_ was right there.

Was it force of will or exhaustion that held Kirigiri back? Because an overwhelming urge to slap Naegi made her vision flash red. What the hell had he been doing? Is this why a rescue party didn’t show up? Because he _hadn’t noticed?_

She didn’t slap him, but she did grab him hard enough to make him splutter.

“What do you think I was doing?” she hissed. “I told you where I was going. You knew where I was. And you _did nothing!_ ”

“You told me to . . .” He looked back at Ikusaba, who darted into the kitchen, then at her again. “I don’t understand. What did you want me to do? . . . Did you get _caught_? Is that what happened?”

“I would have gladly been caught. Did you think I spent the last two days having fun down there?”

“Two days?” he repeated. “You mean today wasn’t the only time you went down there? You . . .! You promised you would tell me!”

How had she not slapped him yet? How was she not _shaking_ him, for all that mattered? Nothing was more offensive than the confused, frightened mask he wore. _What was wrong with him?_

“Is everything okay?”

She glared over Naegi’s head at Komaeda, who had just left the same kitchen Naegi and Ikusaba had been in. Komaeda walked forward and Ikusaba followed him, head bowed.

“What happened? Did Tanaka find you?” Komaeda said with fake concern. “Ikusaba is familiar with wounds. That can’t be too old, so she’ll stop it from getting infected.”

“Not too old?” Kirigiri sneered.

“The world’s best detective needs me to explain? How exciting! Well, in the worst-case scenario, those injuries can only be two hours old. So, that means –”

“Two hours? How did you get _two hours_?”

Komaeda stared at her. “That’s the last time I saw you. You might not think much of other people’s observation skills, but mine are good enough that I would have noticed that arm before.”

Two . . . two hours? That was impossible. Yet, when she said that, _Naegi_ spoke up against her.

“Kyoko, we got here around ten.” He checked his phone. “It’s a quarter to noon.”

“I was trapped down there for _days_ ,” she said. “I spent over six hours asleep in the dark! I ran through every flashlight battery I had; I had to walk out without any light!”

She swung her flashlight up, pointed it straight at him, flicked the light just to make a point. Only it turned on. Only it turned on and it was _bright_. Naegi yelped, flinching back. The sound spooked her, and she brought the flashlight back toward her chest. Shadows shifted next to her and . . . she blinked. For a brief instant, Komaeda had appeared to be shrinking into himself somehow.

“Did you injure that arm by falling?” Komaeda asked. “Maybe you bumped your head when you did.”

“No. I know what I lived through. I was down there for _days_.”

“. . . I was with you two hours ago,” Naegi said quietly.

She looked from him to Komaeda. From Komaeda to him. This wasn’t possible. Why would she make this up? She had been there. She had felt _all of it._ She wasn’t making this up.

Komaeda’s very unwelcome hand was suddenly on her shoulder. “Kirigiri-san, you need to calm down.”

She hadn’t realized she was starting to hyperventilate. She forced her breathing to slow, and that came with the side-effect of slowing her brain. She dimly heard Komaeda telling Ikusaba to take her home, but the sounds came from far away. She was very light-headed, swaying on her feet, feeling like she was floating and spinning at the same time. Ikusaba’s iron-grip served as an anchor, keeping her from floating into the stars.

She honestly didn’t remember the trip from the church to the car, only that Ikusaba had guided her. She thought she had heard Naegi shouting too, but couldn’t remember what he had said. All she knew for certain was that she was suddenly in the passenger seat, Ikusaba buckling her in. It didn’t feel real. None of this felt real. What did feel real were those memories of the cave.

“. . . you can go. I calmed Naegi-kun down.” Komaeda slapped the side of the car. “I’ll see you later, Kirigiri-san.”

She wasn’t crazy. She knew what she had experienced.

Her thoughts continued to run in circles, heavy with denial over what Naegi and Komaeda claimed; heavy with anger over their disbelief. Somehow, she managed to stumble from Ikusaba’s car to her house and to the kitchen table, where she collapsed. She wasn’t crazy.

She shifted through her purse. It didn’t matter what they thought of her. She had this. She had the evidence she needed –

Where was it? She looked through her purse again. Turned it upside down and spilled its contents on the table.

“Are you kidding me?”

The scripture must have fallen out during one of her many falls in the cave. If she didn’t know better, she would have blamed Komaeda. This was all their fault. They were running circles around her, playing with her and . . . her allies _believed_ him.

Head in her hands, she closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri frantically tries to figure out what she's dealing with.


	27. Chapter 27

Two days? Two hours? It was a one-word difference, but to her, it was the difference between sanity and insanity.

She stared at the blaring television, not hearing anything. The newscaster blabbered on, but all Kirigiri cared about was the date and time in the corner. Thursday. It was Thursday. Then she was correct, because they had left on Tuesday. Because Monday she had updated Togami, Tuesday she had woken up Naegi after he fell asleep in the bathtub, Wednesday she had combed through useless records from Nanami’s computer, and Thursday she had updated her grandfather and picked his brain -

She blinked. Her timeline wasn’t adding up. That wasn’t possible.

The television was still on when she ran out of the room. She dropped into the chair in front of her laptop. Where was it. . .? Where was – aha! The email from Togami, ordering her to come in on Monday and discuss the case. That much was correct. And Wednesday. . . No, she hadn’t written anything down because she found nothing new. . . Except that didn’t happen because _she had been in that damn cave._

She pulled out her phone and put in her grandfather’s number. She needed another sharp mind to walk her through this.

He picked up on the fourth ring. She could hear the smile as he greeted her.

“Grandfather, I need to talk to you about the case.”

“Already? You must have made a breakthrough if we’re speaking again so soon.”

“. . . What do you mean by that?”

“What else would I mean?”

Technically, he hadn’t answered her question. However, Kirigiri knew him well enough – and was smart enough – to understand the underlying meaning. She swallowed as her fists clenched, and said, “I spoke to you on Tuesday before I left for Hope’s Peak.”

“Tuesday? We spoke on Tuesday? . . . Let me check my notes . . . Hmm, I don’t have that down. What is it we spoke about that day?”

“We were discussing next steps I could take in my investigation,” she said, somehow forcing the words past the lump in her throat. “I was going to Hope’s Peak that day . . .”

“So, similar to the discussion we had this morning?”

“We didn’t speak this morning!” she cried out.

His silence spoke for the both of them.

“Kyoko, are you well?”

She tried to say yes. She tried to argue her case. Instead, her story of the last two days came tumbling out. Her grandfather remained silent throughout, and the lack of response only made her speak quicker.

“Grandfather? Hello? Were you listening?”

“. . . Of course, I was. Please give me a few seconds.”

She could tell by the lack of audio clarity that he had lowered the phone. He exhaled noisily and between her high-strung brain and the poor audio, it sounded like he had said something to someone.

“Kyoko, if you can answer me, can you describe the air circulation in the cave?”

“Poor?” she said, confused. “It’s a cave.”

“I see . . . I don’t suppose you had brought something that could measure carbon monoxide levels.”

“. . . No.”

“It was worth asking.” She heard him shift. She cradled the phone closer to her ear, like a child shuffling closer to her father after he had moved away. “Kyoko, this is just a theory, but it’s possible that your experience was caused by carbon monoxide poisoning. The symptoms are –”

“I know what they are.” The word _hallucinations_ rang in her mind.

“At the moment, this is the only answer I have for you. It would be easy to verify. Take a carbon monoxide detector, go back in and –”

“ _No!_ ”

The shout surprised even her. Yet it came out with strength and without hesitation. She forced herself to relax, and dwelled over her grandfather’s suggestion, to taking the detector into the cave . . .

. . . To an unending, incomprehensible labyrinth of darkness and despair. To narrowing tunnels and a ceiling that grew lower as the water rose. To alien skulls and eyes watching her in the dark, and the last beep of her cellphone before the battery gave out.

She couldn’t. Her grandfather’s suggestion was logical, but she couldn’t carry it out. Because . . . because . . .

She was scared.

Because even verifying that it was something as benign as carbon monoxide-induced hallucinations wasn’t enough to overshadow the memory of waking up and realizing help wasn’t coming. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go back there.

She ended the call soon after and stared into the distance.

* * *

_I need to know the truth._

During the entire taxi ride to her destination, she didn’t speak. When her stop came into sight, she shovelled money into the cabbie’s waiting hands, and then stepped out. She stared at the house before her, then marched up to the door. Her knocks echoed like gunshots, shaking the door in its frame. Saihara, when he opened the door and saw her standing there, knew exactly why she had arrived. He tried to shut the door in her face, but Saihara had always been _weak._

“Kirigiri-san!”

“Tell me about that case,” she ordered. “What exactly did you see?”

“I told you, I can’t. What -?”

“Don’t play games with me. _Tell me_.”

She hadn’t meant to back him into a wall. It was just that Saihara was naturally timid and she was not. It didn’t help either that she hadn’t cleaned up since leaving Hope’s Peak. She had washed her face, bandaged her arm and changed her clothes, but she hadn’t rested or showered.

Saihara tilted his hat over his eyes. “I can’t. . . Where are you going?”

She ignored him. She didn’t need his help; he kept his old case files in his office. While Saihara padded after her, protesting, she headed for that room. The realization of her intent made him move faster, made him try to block her, but his small frame was easy to shoulder aside.

“Kirigiri-san, _stop!_ ”

He grabbed her. She grabbed him back in self-defence, nearly twisting his wrist in the process.

She wasn’t a physical person. She left manhandling suspects to people like Asahina and Owada. So, the feel of pressure in her joints as she held onto him was enough to skim the top off her simmering fervour. She looked at him, at the prey-like alarm there, and found her voice.

“I spent two days trapped in a cave under their church,” she said to him. “I had limited water, no food, and only the clothes on my back. I had to crawl out in the dark. Makoto doesn’t believe me.”

“ _Naegi-kun_ doesn’t?” Saihara repeated.

Her grip tightened, then weakened. “Tell me what happened. Tell me what these people are capable of.”

“. . . We warned you,” Saihara mumbled. “I told you not to pursue this case.”

“After everything they’ve done, you’re content with letting them get away? Has it occurred to you that your refusal to pursue this case might have led to Nanami Chiaki’s death?” It was a low blow, but Saihara needed to wake up and give her what she needed. “Is it okay for them to kill as long as they leave you and Kaede alone -?”

“That’s enough.”

The two turned. Akamatsu stood in the doorway, hands on her hip, scowling. If Kirigiri didn’t know her, she might have thought Akamatsu was ready to throw a fist.

“You can’t just burst in here and force Shuichi to do whatever you want!” Akamatsu said, already adopting her lecture tone, although it was more strained than usual. “That’s completely –”

“This is bigger than you,” Kirigiri said, the words rumbling out of her throat. “You haven’t faced them. You have no idea what these people are like. One of my coworkers are _dead_ because of them. I need to know what I’m dealing with.”

Akamatsu had backed away, leaned away while Kirigiri spoke, as if acknowledging she didn’t belong in this battle of detectives. Saihara looked like he wanted to curl into a ball until everyone went away. Kirigiri released him, stood up, focused her will on the greater threat. It only seemed to steel Akamatsu’s resolve as she squared her shoulders and her body locked into place.

“I can’t make you leave this case,” Akamatsu said, “but you need to leave Shuichi alone. Go harass someone else!”

“Like who?” she demanded. “Last I checked, this case had been suppressed and information about it wasn’t available.”

Saihara took a sharp breath. At the same time, Akamatsu swelled, as if she had won some sort of victory. Akamatsu brushed off Saihara’s hiss of her name, and a grimace played at her lips.

“Go ask your grandfather.”

“. . . My grandfather?”

“They couldn’t get you, so they went for another Kirigiri,” Akamatsu said. “That’s what I was told.”

“Is this true?”

“Yes,” Saihara said, face twisted up as if she had reached down his throat and pulled the words out. “Your grandfather was on the case.”

She turned slowly. “You are my friend. That is the only reason I will not arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

She said nothing else to them. At least, that was her plan. But when she was through the front door, Saihara called after her. She wasn’t sure why she stopped for him.

He kept a good distance between them. “I. . . I’m not sure how to ask this, but . . . what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She started walking away again. It seemed like that would be the second end to their conversation, but he spoke up once more.

“. . . Kirigiri-san, you look like a rabid animal.”

The strange insult didn’t hurt, but it was surprising enough to make her doubletake. That it came from Saihara was even stranger.

“Ah! Uh . . . That’s not what I meant!” Saihara spluttered. “Maybe not a rabid animal. Uh, more like a cornered animal that’s lashing out at everything. You’ve had that look ever since you walked in.”

She was silent. Saihara eased closer, looking up and down the street, checking not very subtly for anyone who could overhear. He spent a significant amount of that time looking at his own house, checking for Akamatsu. That the street was empty didn’t seem to be enough for him. He yanked his hat down on his head, as if afraid someone had a satellite focused on him.

“You saw _it_ , didn’t you? That guy – no, that _thing_ – that Yonaga-san follows around.”

“Are you talking about Atua?”

“. . . So, you did see it.”

“No. Is that why you abandoned the case? Because Yonaga put together an optical illusion and it _scared_ you?” Her disgust for his cowardice only grew.

Saihara didn’t say anything. He stared at her silently. Then he _ran away_. Back into his house like a cowardly child whose neighbour had yelled at him. She whirled away and stalked off, rage simmering under the surface.

* * *

Her grandfather didn’t live nearby. It took her a few hours to reach his house, but Kirigiri was known for her patience. When she arrived, night was falling. Curtains covered the windows, and she spied no shadows lurking behind them. If she knew her grandfather correctly, he was reviewing his current case in his office. She had many memories of walking in on him during those times.

As she stood before the front door, her raised hand wavered. She was supposed to knock; had curled her hand and everything in expectation. Yet, something held her back: a memory she had dismissed at the time, but now whispered in her ear.

_“Did you find anything?”_

_“I’m sorry, Kyoko, but no. I can’t recall any cases that involved any of the people you have told me about.”_

_But that was a lie. Akamatsu says you were on the case, and that means you must have known Yonaga Angie. If Yonaga’s case was as unusual as I believe, then I can’t believe you would forget._

She lowered her hand. Stepped away from the door. Made her way around the side of the house and stared at the door there.

Her lockpick flashed into her hand.

Her grandfather was as observant as her. This would be a true test of stealth. His file cases were kept in a devoted room, sorted by name and locked away behind a keypad. However, she doubted he had changed the password since her last visit; looking over old cases together was their replacement for photo albums. She skulked through the house, avoiding the room she suspected her grandfather, and made her way to the door. She cupped her free hand over the keypad as she punched in the code, muffling the beeps as much as she could.

It opened easily for her. She shut the door behind her and flicked on the light. The layout hadn’t changed since they had moved here when she was five. Rows of file cabinets greeted her, each one with at least three drawers. The first cabinet of each row was labeled with a set of letters, showing the names located in that section. Each case would be labelled by the main person of interest, which in other words, usually meant the culprit. Her best bet then, if she were to trust Saihara, would be to check under the label of ‘Yonaga.’

( _She wouldn’t find anything. He was wrong. Her grandfather wouldn’t lie to her like this._ )

The drawers screeched as she opened and closed them. She shuffled through file folders, each one drawing her closer and closer to her goal –

Yonaga.

There was a mark next to the name. That wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was that she didn’t recognize it. She remembered sitting next to her grandfather when she was young, dutifully absorbing his words as he explained to her how he marked the cases he came across. There were symbols for unsolved cases, for cold cases, for cases where he disagreed with the official findings. But she didn’t know this symbol, this one like an asterisk with a hollow center and nubs on the end of each point.

She pulled out the folder and read. Surprisingly, Saihara had appeared to have told her the truth. The bodies were discovered after Yonaga Angie washed up on an island and diplomats were sent to her place of origin. The bodies all displayed clear signs of asphyxiation, while post-mortems revealed fluid in the lungs, confirming death via drowning.

There were some crime scene photos included. One showed a couple around a set dinner table, only they were dead. A fork was still sticking out of a piece of fish. Curious. The next photo showed some teenagers out in a field. A ball was nearby, suggesting they had been in the middle of a game. Another photo showed a man slumped in his parked car.

She read the next line:

_None of the bodies showed any signs of being relocated._

. . . Ah, the killer had planned this well. To have transported an entire island of people without leaving any trace was quite a feat. And obviously, the killer had moved them because people didn’t just drown at the dinner table. . . Yes, they must have planned this _very_ well because the time of death had been estimated between three and five pm for everyone. Furthermore, there was no signs of a struggle – well, apart from their dying spasms as their body demanded air. However she had pulled this off, it was admittingly genius –

Her eyes roved over the next section and she blinked. While the exact time of death couldn’t be determined, the day was readily available. And according to this official statement, by the day her tribe had been massacred, Yonaga Angie had already washed up on that other island and had yet to leave. Which meant she had a solid alibi. Yonaga Angie was not the killer. That made sense. Yonaga was tiny. Even smaller than Naegi. (That was an odd thing to say out loud.) Meanwhile, some of these victims looked like they worked out everyday. She couldn’t imagine how Yonaga alone managed to wrangle them, unless she had drugged every one of them. No, this was a group effort. And just which group did she know was associated with Yonaga?

Nothing else struck her as terribly important. For now, at least. However, the folder was much lighter than she had expected. She didn’t find anything about detectives having incidents either, as Saihara had also claimed. Why hadn’t her grandfather documented those? Even if the government had forbidden him possessing the official reports, he could have made some quick notes.

It was a question she was unlikely to get the answer to anytime soon. Not when her grandfather saw it fit to keep this from her in the first place.

To her disappointment, neither Komaeda nor Enoshima had any entries of their own. On a whim, she checked the others. Nothing for Shinguji, nothing for Kamukura.

But there was a folder labelled ‘Ikusaba,’ and it had the same asterisk-like mark that Yonaga’s had. When she opened the folder and a picture fell out, she recognized it. Not just the situation itself – for a man with his throat slit was quite common in her line of work – but the man, too; his picture had been in the scripture, in the picture partly drawn in crayon. Was it possible that picture had been a retelling of an eye-witness account? Or gloating over the crime, just as that picture of Nanami Chiaki appeared to be?

_Ikusaba Kasai, formerly known as Enoshima Kasai . . ._

Oh? A name change? How curious. Perhaps it had been the aftermath of a divorce; if the parents had decided to take one child each, it would explain why Enoshima and Ikusaba continued to have different last names. She read on. Ikusaba’s father had been found dead in his home, throat cut right down to the bone. The investigation had been fruitless; there were no suspects. It had happened a long time ago, back when Ikusaba would have been but a child and . . .

 _No signs of the daughter, Ikusaba Mukuro, have been found. She has been classified as missing until further notice_.

The hairs rose on the back of her neck. Not from fear, but from chills born of excitement. Ikusaba had been missing? _Kidnapped?_ Then what was she doing with Hope’s Peak? Had they, encouraged by Enoshima, taken in the older twin after Ikusaba had been recovered from her kidnappers? Or was Hope’s Peak’s the original kidnapper?

This was incredible! This was a discovery easy backed up by evidence that she could freely obtain at any time without a warrant; all she had to do was search Ikusaba’s name in the missing persons database. Should she come up as still missing. . . then everything was _perfect_.

So why hadn’t her grandfather said anything?

Her grandfather wasn’t like Saihara. He understood a detective’s primary doctrine was to solve the case. Blackmail wouldn’t have scared him off, nor would a threat upon his life. However, she was certain she had also mentioned Ikusaba when she called him about Komaeda. She’d mentioned all of them. Yet here she was, looking at _two_ entries with the names of those she was investigating.

Naegi was right. Something was going on here, and she had no idea what?

Her retreat felt rushed. Was it excitement that harried her steps? Fear of being caught? _Hurt_ at being lied to? It was all at once and none at once. Whatever it was, it had her back out on the street so fast it was like she had teleported. She wasn’t running from her grandfather’s house – Kirigiri Kyoko didn’t run away from things – but she was walking faster than normal. Only when she was well out of sight of his windows did she feel fit to call for a cab. What a day. What a bittersweet day.

She gave the cab driver her home address. She had access to the database from her laptop and there were some things she needed to take care of before she went flying off to Togami. Like fixing herself up a little. Saihara was a coward but, well, she did look at her reflection in her phone. Her appearance would certainly get her attention at the station, but not necessarily the kind she’d want. Also, she was hungry. Very hungry.

Still, as she sat in the backseat and thought about the ambush she was about to spring, she couldn’t stop her mind from straying back to those dark passages. Two days. Not two hours. She just had to keep telling herself that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should be the last early Sunday update. It is possible that Wednesday updates may start getting posted at 9/10 though.
> 
> Next Chapter: Togami and Kirigiri act upon this new information.


	28. Chapter 28

Kirigiri wasn’t one for fast food. When she was young, her grandfather had warned her that such food was a trap for people like them. When you were darting back and forth between locations, your mind constantly on overdrive and always thinking two moves ahead, it was too easy to fall into the rut of constantly ordering fast food. Not only was it unhealthy but, her grandfather had warned her, it was hard on the wallet. Thus, like most of his teachings, Kirigiri had integrated that lesson into her habits.

Yet here she was, a bag of fast food clutched in her hand as she unlocked her front door. She already felt guilty about it; it smelt rotten. But it was just this once. Just this once while she sharpened the weapon she had stumbled across, and her car was nowhere to be found.

She went straight to her office. She barely tasted her meal as she waited for the computer to boot up, then to load a browser. Once it was ready, that burger was tossed aside as she went to work. Navigate to the national missing persons database. Enter her credentials. Sit back and wait. She took a big bite of her burger while she did, eyes on the screen.

She still couldn’t believe Hope’s Peak hadn’t bothered to change Ikusaba’s name, but there it was. In big bold letters, the database query had produced a match. The light of the screen reflected in her eyes as she leaned forward. Ikusaba Mukuro. Reported missing after her father’s murder. The crimes occurred in an area way out of Kirigiri’s jurisdiction, but for missing persons, that didn’t matter. What did matter was that Ikusaba Mukuro was _still missing_ ; there was even a side note that she was likely dead. She nearly laughed from the joy of it all. She already knew the details of Ikusaba’s father’s murder, so she ignored those. She did, however, casually glance at the next of kin. Which was empty.

“Makoto!” she called, already speed walking out of her office. “Makoto, come look at this.”

Silence. She called for him a few times until finally, as she stood at the bottom of the stairs, she realized he wasn’t home. It was an odd thing for him not to be there when she wanted him, especially given how much he went out of his way to accommodate her. If he wasn’t here, then that meant he was still _there_. Or on his way home.

Just as she thought that, someone knocked on the door.

In retrospect, it obviously wasn’t Naegi – why would he knock? Still, out of all people, she hadn’t expected Owada Mondo to be standing there when she opened the door. It popped the bubble of glee she had been riding, for his presence did not bode well.

“Owada-kun, how can I help you?”

“Need to talk to you.” Without asking, Owada stepped inside. She had grown accustomed to his sometimes-tactless attitude, but would it hurt to ask first?

Just like last time, she led him into the living room. Unlike last time, he didn’t take a seat. He paced back and forth instead, a restless caged animal. Togami’s mandatory break, no matter how well-intended it was, had done little good. There was a shadow on Owada’s face, a slackness and exhaustion she’d recently started associating with Naegi. He was thinner; his cheeks were little more sunken, his chin jutted out more.

“Remember that stuff I asked you about last time?” He didn’t wait for her answer, but instead ploughed on. “I think I’m starting to get it. Like, the shit Chihiro was working on. But I need the original book, so I can finish translating it, and Bro told me you have it.”

“Hope’s Peak’s Holy Scripture? That’s why you’re here?” she repeated disbelievingly.

“Yeah!” Owada said too quickly. “I need that thing cause like you gotta compare it to the original, you know?”

She had to take a moment. “Are you seriously telling me that you think you’ve nearly solved the cipher, even though you had no access to the original text?”

“I sure did.” His hand twitched, as if about to give her a thumbs-up. “It looked like a load of horseshit at first, but I read it over and over and over, and it _means_ something. I almost got it. I just . . . I need to look at it a little deeper. You’re a detective; ya know what I’m talking about.”

He looked taut, like an elastic band stretched to its breaking point, ready to snap back at the slightest release. She studied his face again, the strange thinness found there.

“Owada-kun, when’s the last time you ate?”

“I ate?” He said that slowly, as if he had never heard the word before. “Uh, I think I had dinner a couple of days ago. Maybe? Argh! Who the fuck cares? I’ve nearly solved your entire case for you!”

“You’re translating a book. A _religious_ book,” she said. “I am curious to know what it says, but why would you think it would assist with my case?”

“You’re shitting me.” He stepped toward her and for a second, something guarded and wary rose within her, recognising a threat. He pulled Fujisaki’s journal from underneath his jacket and brandished it. “It’s in here! All the fucking answers are in here! Once I can read that shit, I can read that stupid book of theirs and I’ll find _all_ the answers.”

“. . . Go home.”

“You serious?”

“That scripture is a piece of evidence in an active investigation,” she said. She didn’t falter at all and for that, she was proud. “I can’t let you have it.”

His teeth ground together. “Figures you would say that. All you care about is that dumb case. Chihiro and Chuck never mattered to ya.”

She would not show weakness here. It was true that she didn’t care much about the dog, but Fujisaki had been a friend. But to say that was to bare her throat, and a predator like Owada would go straight for the jugular.

“Bitch!” he spat, and Kirigiri’s mental image of herself blinked in surprise. Owada was coarse, yes, but to go with his overly macho attitude, he possessed an outdated form of chivalry; chivalry which frowned upon deliberately tossing such verbal barbs at women. She saw no remorse though, only barely suppressed rage as he stormed out of her home.

But at least that nonsense was over. The next proper action would be to bring Ikusaba’s history to Togami’s attention, and use that as leverage to bring Ikusaba to the station and separate her from the more powerful people at Hope’s Peak. She didn’t have to pull that off immediately though, and she did want to bring Naegi up to speed before she took that step. She texted him, and received a prompt reply that he would be back soon. Thus, she prepared for bed. Even if she fell asleep, Naegi would unintentionally wake her when he crawled into bed next to her.

She wasn’t sure if she would sleep, not after all that sleeping in the caverns, but she did. She fell into an uneasy slumber filled with half-lucid dreams of dark corridors and solitude so that when she awoke, she couldn’t recognize her own bedroom. Her heart wasn’t pounding; it was beating so fast it vibrated through her whole chest. Painfully, too; each movement of her diaphragm was an icepick in her chest.

It took a few minutes to realize she was alone. Her assumption was that Naegi had suffered from another nightmare, and was waiting in the kitchen. But an eerie silence awaited her when she descended the steps, and a quick search revealed that no, Naegi simply wasn’t present. Then he had . . . stayed overnight? That couldn’t be right. He wasn’t that stupid.

. . . The text message on her phone said otherwise.

She ended up calling Togami. It’d kill two birds with one stone that way; she could update Togami and bring in Ikusaba while also retrieving her foolhardy boyfriend. She had expected Togami to protest acting as a personal taxi, but he barely fought her at all. If anything, he seemed to have been waiting for this. She said nothing about his unexpected attitude when she saw him however, bringing focus instead to the discovery she had made.

“That’s something,” Togami remarked.

“Is that it? You’re not going to call the judge’s office for a warrant?” she asked.

“We don’t need to,” Togami said. “We have reason to suspect that Hope’s Peak may be complicit in Ikusaba’s kidnapping, so we can justify this as an emergency extraction.”

She smirked and turned her eyes back to the road. Hope’s Peak wouldn’t see them coming.

“Where’s Naegi?”

“. . . He went ahead on his own,” she lied. She couldn’t admit that he had spend the night there, that she had indirectly _left_ him there. Togami might boot her to apprentice detective level if he heard that – and she wasn’t convinced he wouldn’t be right to.

“Very funny. Did he finally chicken out?” When she didn’t answer, his head turned so sharply she honestly feared they would crash. “You can’t be serious.”

“He thought it would keep them off-guard,” she said.

“If I stretch my belief, I can vaguely see him thinking something like that. But what are _you_ doing?”

“What do you mean?”

He scoffed. “Do you have any self-awareness? You’re the same person who stormed into my office and threatened me after I let Naegi into the interrogation room with a suspect by himself _once_. . . For the record, the reason it hasn’t happened again has nothing to do with anything you said; he’s the sorriest interrogator I’ve ever seen.”

“You make me sound insane.”

“You are.” She glared at him, to which he only shrugged. “I hope you’re aware that it isn’t normal to walk up to a corpse, stick your finger into his mouth, and then taste-test his salvia.”

“Based on the evidence, I had strong reason to believe he had been fed something that gave him an allergic reaction. My actions were perfectly reasonable.”

“As I said, insane,” Togami said. “But at least yours is a reasonable, controlled insanity. Until Naegi gets involved. I’ve spoken to Maizono Sayaka before. You’ve been territorial over him ever since you’ve met. Why is why I think . . .”

“Go on.”

He watched her through the mirror for a long second. “Let’s retrieve your boyfriend, shall we?”

They stormed into the church, blowing past Shinguji and Yonaga before either could say anything. They were a duo on a mission, eager for vengeance after their last humiliation. Kamukura, alone and right in their sights, took one look and grimaced.

“Ikusaba Mukuro. Where is she?” Togami demanded.

“Ikusaba-san? She’s the one you’re looking for?” Kamukura said incredulously. _Not Naegi?_ was the question he didn’t ask.

Before Kamukura could tell them anything, they heard a commotion. Enoshima, shadowed by her sister, emerged from the hallway off to the side. Enoshima had her hands folded behind her, perfectly relaxed, as if the arrival of her and Togami was nothing more than the result of a clever plot. Enoshima had no idea what was coming.

“Where’s your spare rooms?” she asked them.

“Spare rooms?” Enoshima tapped her chin. “Second floor.”

Togami walked past Enoshima, an inch away from clipping shoulders, and announced, “Ikusaba Mukuro, you’re coming with us back to the station.”

There. There was the impact she had been craving. Their audience of five snapped to attention. The curl to Enoshima’s expression was one she hadn’t seen before, a blankness born of shock. Behind her, (she could still sense exactly where they were), Shinguji stepped closer, but he made no other words to intervene. Yonaga lingered, peering out from behind his back. Kamukura hunched a little, neck withdrawing into his body, shoulders raising. And Ikusaba merely stood there and looked to Enoshima for instructions.

“Alright. Where’s the arrest warrant?” Enoshima snapped. “This isn’t a dictatorship. You can’t arrest anyone you want. You have to follow procedure and read out her rights . . .”

“She’s not under arrest,” Togami said, sounding much too happy about that. “This is something even more important.”

With that, he whipped out the sheet Kirigiri had printed off for him earlier. Enoshima tried to snatch it from him, but Togami quickly moved it out of her reach, only letting her read it. Enoshima said nothing. Kamukura, who had come up behind her, also said nothing.

Togami smirked. His hand clamped down on Ikusaba’s shoulder in an almost territorial manner. So busy was he with gloating, that Togami didn’t notice what Kirigiri did: the creeping threat running up Ikusaba’s body. Her muscles tensed, thick veins making themselves known. Her spine slowly straightened even as her shoulders rotated and set into place. Kirigiri knew then that if she had wanted to, if Ikusaba could have snapped Togami’s arm in an instant. She didn’t though. Whether it was because Ikusaba didn’t know what to do or because she hadn’t realized she the target of a missing persons case, was a mystery.

“Are you serious?” Enoshima said. “This is a joke, right?”

“We are very serious,” Togami said. “Now, Ikusaba Mukuro, you are coming with us to answer some questions about your abduction.”

“A-abduction? Junko-chan!” That was panic, but what was Ikusaba concerned about?

“You can’t do that!” Enoshima shrieked, as if Togami had never dealt with an irate relative before, as if Togami wasn’t ignoring her and frogmarching Ikusaba towards the door. “You can’t touch her. She’s _mine_! Hey, you going to do something about this?”

She directed the last question to Komaeda, who had just wandered in from the corridor. His brow was pinched in concern – whether it was real concern was a question for the ages. Komaeda took in the situation, then completely ignored Togami and turned to Kirigiri. When he spoke, he sounded confused more than anything.

“Kirigiri-san, is this really necessary?” he asked. “I don’t see how this helps.”

“It isn’t supposed to help any of you, except Ikusaba,” Togami said.

Komaeda continued to ignore Togami. “Kirigiri-san, stop this.”

Kirigiri knew that being ignored, that being publicly undermined in favour of her infuriated Togami beyond anything he had experienced this year. He kept his grip on Ikusaba, but muscled her off to the side so he could get in Komaeda’s face and stare him down.

“Don’t look at her!” Togami spat. “Look at me. I’m in charge here. As this city’s police chief, I am telling you that we are taking Ikusaba Mukuro back to the station.”

Komaeda’s mouth opened slightly. His entire body lit up as he understood _something_. He nodded briskly. “Ah. So, this is your decision. Sorry, Junko, but I can’t do anything about that.”

What was that? Kirigiri stomped down her rising anger. Komaeda was a bastard, she knew that. That little implication in his speech was yet another example of that.

Enoshima was still snarling and spitting; as satisfying as it was, Kirigiri still had a boyfriend to recover. She left them behind, heading toward the second floor, checking each bedroom there. She found him in the third one, lights up, blanket drawn up to his chin. He looked snug, deep in sleep.

Idiot.

She ripped the blanket off. Naegi twitched, but his eyes remained closed. She didn’t slap him, she would never slap him, but she did swat him quite hard on the forehead.

“Wake up.” Once his nose started to scrunch up, the tirade began. “If I’m remembering correctly, you were the one who demanded I shouldn’t be alone with Komaeda Nagito. What were you thinking? I don’t care how late it was. You should have called a cab.”

Naegi’s eyes cranked open. He made to sit up, but his arm caved halfway there. His head fell back on the pillow with a soft _plop_. It caused a sliver of concern to break into her righteous anger.

“You should really let him sleep.”

Of course, _he_ was there. She didn’t turn, didn’t want to look at Komaeda. She remained focused on her boyfriend.

“He had a rough night,” Komaeda urged. “Barely slept at all.”

“He’s coming back with me.”

“Togami-kun asked about him, didn’t he?” Komaeda said. “Alright, Naegi-kun, go home.”

Swatting Naegi again roused him, enough so for him to roll over onto his side. With Komaeda watching, he was still too slow for her. She grabbed him under the shoulder and hauled his light frame to his feet.

“You are in big trouble,” she said to him. “Start moving. We’re going home.”

“Yes. Go home,” Naegi mumbled.

Ikusaba was already in the car by the time Kirigiri returned with him. Togami gave the rest of Hope’s Peak a half-assed salute, and then they were sailing down the street in his car. Ikusaba sat solemnly in the passenger seat, fists in her lap, saying nothing. Kirigiri and Naegi occupied the back seat.

“So, anything you want to say?” Togami asked.

Ikusaba was silent.

“You’ll change your mind when we get to the station,” he said.

In the back seat, Naegi suddenly fell against her. She pushed him off, and he settled right back on her. A light snore escaped him.

“Togami-kun, could you drop us off at home?”

There was no reason for the chief to refuse. He did as she requested, promising to call once the interrogation was ready to begin. Kirigiri guided Naegi to the front door.

He blinked blearily, voice heavy with drowsiness. “Where are we?”

“Home.” She lifted him to his feet. “Did anything happen last night?”

“I missed the last bus. I think. . . I had nightmares again; they looked the same. . . I really didn’t sleep well. Can I go back to sleep or do you need me there?”

“You can sleep. Are you sure you’re okay? Nothing at all happened while I wasn’t there?”

“I’m fine. I just want to sleep.”

She guided him to bed, tucked him in, and then quickly called Maizono. She wanted to stay with him; normally, she would have. But her job was calling, and Ikusaba was cooling her heels in a room waiting for her. No matter how much it bothered her, no matter how much it pulled at her nerves and made her unravel, she’d have to get someone else to watch him for now.

Maizono arrived. Kirigiri quickly filled her in and then headed down to the station.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Togami is best police chief


	29. Chapter 29

Interrogation rooms were never a pleasant place. They were bare, cold, uncomfortable both physically and mentally for the interrogee. Their interrogation rooms had rough-looking walls and metal floors that sapped heat from bare feet. This room was even barer than most, possessing only a table and two chairs, as Kirigiri had advised Togami to clean it of possible weapons beforehand. Technically, Ikusaba was a victim, which meant it would be improper to restrain her as they would their typical suspect. Hence why Oogami watched from the other side of the one-way glass, ready to intervene.

Togami was there when Kirigiri entered the room. For whatever reason, the chief had found it fit to stand – ah, going by body language, Ikusaba had refused to talk and damaged his ego. Togami nodded at her, and then left to take a position outside the room next to Oogami. Kirigiri made a show of checking her phone, allowing the awkward silence to linger on, hoping it would unnerve the ~~suspect~~ victim.

The chair scraped against the floor as Kirigiri pulled it out. It was the only sound for a good while. Ikusaba wouldn’t look at her; she straight down at her lap and nothing else. Clearing her throat didn’t draw attention, nor did tapping on the table. Only saying Ikusaba’s name aloud got those reluctant eyes to focus on her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Kirigiri asked. She reminded herself Ikusaba was supposed to be a victim.

Ikusaba said nothing.

Kirigiri reached into the folder she had brought with her and pulled out a picture of Ikusaba’s father. She slid it across the table to where Ikusaba couldn’t miss it. The other woman recognized him; Kirigiri saw it in the way her body became stone. But it was a weak stone, a stone chipping all over.

“This is your father.”

“Yes.”

“He was murdered.”

She heard Ikusaba shift in her seat. “. . . Yes.”

“What do you know about that?”

A long silence. “Nothing.”

Too bad Naegi wasn’t here. He would have gotten a lot more out of her withdrawn witness. “According to our records, you were reported missing shortly after your father died. Would you agree with this?”

“. . . I guess.”

Ikusaba was looking everywhere but at the picture of her father, as if fearing she would break down at the sight of it. That was encouraging. It suggested Ikusaba still had an emotional connection to him, and thus would be more cooperative with some encouragement.

Kirigiri threaded her fingers together on the tabletop. “Ikusaba-san, we did not have the greatest start and I apologize for that. However, I was unaware of your situation at the time. Regardless of what you may think, we are here to help you. We want to bring you and your father justice. Ikusaba-san, who abducted you?”

Ikusaba was silent.

“Ikusaba-san, I don’t know what your kidnapper told you, but let me tell you this: you are safe. We are here to protect you from whomever is threatening you.”

“Safe?” Ikusaba said. “From what? They’re saving me.”

“Was your life with your father unpleasant?”

“No,” Ikusaba said. “He did the best he could, but he was only human.”

“Ikusaba-san, they took you from your family,” Kirigiri stressed. “These people took you from your home and _murdered_ him. Is that okay with you?”

“It was their right,” Ikusaba said quietly. “He didn’t have any right to stop them. He should have let me go.”

“. . . So, your kidnapping was consensual?”

“I didn’t understand at the time,” Ikusaba said, “but I do now. She wanted to save me. I couldn’t even remember her, but she saved me.”

“You’re talking about Enoshima Junko, correct?”

Ikusaba inhaled sharply. Kirigiri didn’t need that hint to know her assumption was correct. So, Enoshima was the instigator . . . but she would have been Ikusaba’s age, well before the age of culpability. It was extremely unlikely that Enoshima had understood what her request would lead to. What was more important was whom would have carried out the request on Enoshima’s behalf: Hope’s Peak.

“Allow me to voice my theory,” Kirigiri said. “Hope’s Peak took in your sister at a young age. However, Enoshima-san missed her older sister and requested that you be found. Hope’s Peak sent an agent to retrieve you, killing your father when he resisted. Am I correct?”

Ikusaba shook her head. “They didn’t do anything wrong!”

“But they did do it.”

“N-no!” Ikusaba lied.

They were getting somewhere, but it wasn’t enough. Ikusaba wasn’t giving in, but Kirigiri knew why. Flashes of memories, of Ikusaba trailing after her sister, shot through her mind. Enoshima Junko was the reason that Ikusaba wouldn’t talk. It was the older sibling complex, the very same one Naegi possessed that stood in her way now. And that wasn’t a problem.

“Ikusaba-san,” she tried to soften her voice. Not too much though; something that uncharacteristic would frighten the woman. “You were just a child when this happened. Your sister was, too. Even if she instigated this, no one is going to hold her responsible. She wouldn’t have known the consequences of what she was asking. Your sister is as much of a victim as you are.”

Ikusaba’s lower lip wobbled. “Stop.”

Weakness. A chink in the armour. Restless, Kirigiri stood. The height difference would exploit that weakness, batter against Ikusaba’s psychological barrier. She stood next to Ikusaba and laid a hand on her shoulder like a comforting parent.

“Ikusaba-san, we can help both of you. You and your sister. But we need your help to do that.”

Ikusaba wrenched her head away. She was shaking. “I don’t know what to do!”

Kirigiri leaned down so they would be eye-level. “Tell me what happened.”

Ikusaba was silent.

“Ikusaba-san –”

“Will you get out of my face already?”

Kirigiri blinked. That made her hesitate, and that hesitation made her take too long for Ikusaba’s liking. The woman put a hand on Kirigiri’s chest and shoved her back, crossing her legs afterwards. She idly examined her nails.

“Seriously, do you know how annoying you are?” Ikusaba drawled. She _drawled_. “I already told you that I have nothing to say.”

What?

“Oi, you!” Ikusaba snapped her fingers at the one-way glass. “Get me some water.”

Seriously: _What?_

“Well, if Mr. I’m So Tough Police Chief won’t do it, guess it’s up to you, Kirigiri-san! A pitcher of ice water will do.”

Her first attempt at speech tripped over her tongue because _what?_ “I don’t need to –”

“Uh, actually, you do,” Ikusaba said. She looked up from her nails. “Last time I checked, you guys were forbidden from torturing others, and withholding the necessities of life is torture. . . So, get moving!”

Ikusaba gestured to the door.

Kirigiri left. She had to. She couldn’t stand in that room and keep her composure while listening to Ikusaba hum cheerfully to herself. This was real, right?

“. . . You never told me Ikusaba had a split personality,” Togami said once she was out of the room.

“She doesn’t . . . I didn’t think she did.”

“Right.”

Oogami passed them with a pitcher and glass. Inside the room, she held it out to Ikusaba who snatched it away. Immediately, the woman poured herself a glass and sipped it like she was drinking a cocktail at the beach. She wiped her lips with an exaggerated smack, and stared straight at the one-way glass (at them.)

“She might be having a nervous breakdown,” Kirigiri said. “Let’s give her a break.”

She and Togami strolled through the station together. The others veered out of their way, knowing that when Kirigiri and Togami were together, it meant Serious Business. A couple of minutes into their walk, Togami began talking.

“It isn’t enough. We can’t conclusively prove Ikusaba was talking about Hope’s Peak.”

“Give it some time,” she said. “I’ll break her.”

Kirigiri took a lunch break in her office. Called up Maizono and checked on Naegi. An hour later, she and Togami were ready for round two. They headed down to the room Ikusaba was in and . . .

She wasn’t there.

That was impossible. The rooms locked from the outside, and Kirigiri had taken special care to lock Ikusaba in. That would suggest that someone had released Ikusaba, and the most likely candidate was Ishimaru, who had been assigned to watch her during their break. Furthermore, Ikusaba wasn’t the only missing person; Ishimaru wasn’t present either. Togami had already realized that and was on his phone demanding that Ishimaru return _immediately_.

Thankfully, Ishimaru appeared unharmed when he arrived. The officer stopped before them, still lacking his usual boisterous spirit, heels merely tapping each other instead of clicking in a salute.

“Chief. Detective Kirigiri-san. What do you require?”

“Where’s Ikusaba?” Kirigiri asked.

 “Ikusaba Mukuro?” Ishimaru furrowed his eyebrows. “I escorted her off the premises half an hour ago.”

“You did what?” Togami demanded, the force of his shout nearly knocking Ishimaru back. “What gave you the _brilliant_ plan to do that?”

“The paperwork said that she was to be released.”

“Someone signed release papers for her? This has to be a joke,” Kirigiri muttered. Administrative errors happened, but if this turned out to be the cause, Kirigiri was going to murder the one responsible. “Do you remember who signed off on it?”

Ishimaru gave her an odd look. “Yes.”

“Who signed those papers?”

Ishimaru stared at her. “You did.”

Togami slowly turned to look at her.

“You’re mistaken,” Kirigiri said instantly.

“Ngh!” Ishimaru looked hurt by her attack on his memory. “I have made no mistake! The signature was yours, and the clerk who gave me the paperwork said you had personally requested it be delivered to me.”

“You’re mistaken,” Kirigiri said again, placing more stress on the words. “I’ve spent the last hour in my office. I didn’t speak to anyone here or complete any paperwork.”

“. . . Do you have proof?”

She assumed Togami was talking to Ishimaru. But when the silence stretched on and she saw Togami’s cold eyes on her, she realized she had been very, very wrong.

“What are you implying?” she asked.

Togami held her gaze. “Officer Ishimaru, return to your duties.”

Ishimaru, completely oblivious to the bubbling tension before him, walked out. Kirigiri immediately rounded on Togami because _what was he accusing her of?_

“You’re on administrative leave for a week,” Togami said. And he started to _walk off_.

“I didn’t sign those papers,” she snapped after him. She followed him furiously, refusing to be ignored. “I am not going on leave.”

He stopped suddenly. “Did you hit your head recently?”

What was he –?

“Are you having issues with your father again? Is it your grandfather this time? Or have you been secretly dying of pneumonia this entire time and didn’t see it fit to tell me?”

“Where is this coming from?” she said.

Togami adjusted his glasses. “You’ve been off your game almost from the very beginning. Talking about caverns no one else seems able to find, harassing witnesses, exceedingly reckless behaviour and that nonsense with your car. . . I know all about your nervous breakdown yesterday. You and Naegi are off this case until further notice.”

“Then what? You’re going to put _Asahina-san_ on the case? I’m the only one who can handle this!”

“And what a great job you’re doing,” Togami scoffed. “Needing a _murder suspect_ to drive you home. Face it: you two are a danger to the investigation.”

“You’re making a big mistake.”

“No, I’m not,” Togami said. “In fact, I think two months from now you’ll be begging me to bury all memory of your behaviour during this case. You’re a risktaker, and I respect that, but there’s a difference between taking risks and acting like an idiot. You’ve been toeing the wrong side of the line recently.”

This was among some of the very last things she had expected Togami to ever say to her. That allowed him to speak again before she could retaliate.

“Kirigiri, I am going to give you one chance to come clean. Do you have some relation to Hope’s Peak that you haven’t told me about? Because the way you’ve been acting . . . it’s almost as if you know you’re not in danger.”

“I have no history with them,” she said, glaring at him for even entertaining the thought.

“If that’s the case . . .” He turned his back on her. “Go home.”

But Kirigiri wouldn’t be ignored. “You have no right –”

“I think,” Togami said loudly, turning the heads of a couple of people walking by, “you’ve forgotten where you stand. I’ve let you conduct your investigations how you’ve seen fit and ignored all the laws you’ve bent along the way. It appears, however, in doing so, I’ve allowed you to forget one key detail: _I_ am your boss. I am the only one with the right to say who works which case. Now, be a good employee and go home.”

* * *

Kirigiri hadn’t been thrown off a case since she was a young girl. Even then, it was always because of perceived danger to her wellbeing and never a question of competence. To experience this now, at her age, at her level of expertise. . . she would have rather stuck her hands in a fire. For once, she was glad her car had gone missing, because she didn’t think she was in any state to drive.

Before she walked through the front door, she took a minute to calm herself. Maizono was inside, and the woman was sharp; the last thing Kirigiri wanted was to explain why she was angry. It would already be bad enough when she had to explain what had happened to Naegi.

Shortly after she walked in, Maizono came down the stairs. She offered a small smile and a respectful nod before launching into what Kirigiri wanted to hear.

“He’s awake now. He seems fine. But,” she giggled, “he talks more in his sleep than I remember.”

“He doesn’t usually.”

They looked at each other awkwardly, recognizing that Maizono’s statement might not suggest he was fine.

“He was convinced that one of Hagakure-kun’s theories is true,” Maizono said. “He didn’t say which, but personally I’m hoping it’s the one where aliens stole his burger.”

“Sounds like an interesting dream.” She shrugged off her coat and hung it on a nearby hanger.

“Who’s Tanaka?”

Kirigiri froze. “Why do you ask?”

“Naegi-kun was asking for him in his sleep,” Maizono said. “He kept saying he needed to talk to Tanaka.”

“That dream seems to have given him quite the affinity for lunatics,” Kirigiri said as she took off her shoes.

“I suppose,” Maizono said lightly. “Is everything okay?”

“We’re fine,” she said automatically.

Maizono was staring too much. She didn’t believe her. It made no difference. If Kirigiri were to talk about what had happened, about how everyone was insisting she couldn’t tell two hours from two days (a nervous breakdown, Togami had called it!), Maizono wouldn’t believe her. How could she, when even _Naegi_ called her a liar?

The doorbell rang.

Her spirits rose. Togami had come to his senses and was here to grovel (which in Togami language, meant he would insist on giving her a ‘second chance’) for her return. Served him right. She still hadn’t accepted that –

She opened the door.

She shut the door.

“Who was that?” Maizono asked.

“Nobody important.” She left it there. Let Maizono think it was a solicitor. She didn’t want to explain –

A knock on the door. “Kyoko-chan, you don’t have to let me in. I just wanted to say hi.”

Hand over her mouth, Maizono looked like she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or gasp. Meanwhile, Kirigiri was quietly stewing. _Kyoko-chan_? After all this time he thought he could march in here and call her that? The arrogance of this man outdid even Komaeda Nagito.

Maizono glanced at the door. “Uh. . .”

“It’s nobody important,” Kirigiri insisted as the man at the door kept knocking.

“Are you sure . . .?”

“Let’s sit down. I’ll make you some tea,” she said quickly, walking off before Maizono could ask another question.

Maizono wasn’t dumb. She recognized a change of topic when she heard one. They down in the kitchen together over tea, Maizono fighting not to look back. Her struggle was betrayed in the restless drumming of her fingers along the cup’s rim, on the slightly excessive energy in her tone. Still, Kirigiri appreciated the thought –

They both heard the front door open. How –?

Oh. That was right. Maizono said Naegi was awake.

Reach door. Close door. Say nothing. That was all she had to do. It wasn’t like Naegi had deliberately done this. She could imagine him frantically speaking right now, trying to buy time as he figured out what to do.

Her mental image was correct. Naegi was indeed speaking quickly, his body in the doorway, serving as a makeshift barrier. The man he spoke to wore a pleasant smile, but she wasn’t fooled.

The man waved. “Hello. . .!”

She shut the door on her father.

As she dragged Naegi away, Jin shouted through the door. “I was in the neighbourhood, so I just wanted to say hi. I’m at a nearby hotel for the next little while.”

“I don’t believe him!” Kirigiri hissed. “Of all times, he has to show up _now_. What will it take to make him realize I don’t want to see him?”

Naegi said nothing. Knowing him, he thought she should make up with her father, but he was supportive enough not to say it.

“This is just . . .” She trailed off. As she entered the kitchen, it was like someone had flipped a switch. Her energy vanished, leaving her without the will to finish that sentence, without the strength to stand. She collapsed into a chair, head in her hands. When it rained, it poured, so the saying went. How true it was.

“Kirigiri-san, are you okay?” Naegi rubbed a circle into her back.

 _No_ , she wanted to say. Her lips couldn’t form words, however.

“You know I’m here for you,” Naegi said. “You can tell me whenever you’re ready.”

( _But I already did, and you didn’t believe a word of it._ )

Her fingers curled around his wrist. Then, she tangled her fingers with the back of his hair and yanked him forward. Their lips slammed together, squeezing out a sound of surprise from him.

“Distract me,” she murmured.

Naegi swallowed. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips –

Someone cleared their throat.

They both turned their heads.

“. . . I think I’ll be leaving now,” Maizono said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri and Naegi attend a funeral.


	30. Chapter 30

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” She turned deeper into Naegi, making the couch creak. Her lips brushed against his bare shoulder as her head rested in the small cushion of flesh under his scapula. His belt buckle pressed uncomfortably into her side, as if reminding her that things weren’t okay.

“Well,” she could picture his wry smile, “we have been dating for a while. I think I might be able to pick up on your moods by now.”

“It’s just this case,” she said, and it wasn’t quite a lie. “I want it to be over.”

“Don’t we all,” Naegi sighed. “Are you sure that’s everything?”

“Yes,” she lied. (What was the point in saying differently? He didn’t believe her anyways.)

He didn’t press further. He nuzzled her soothingly even as her mind buzzed with inner turmoil. Tomorrow. . . tomorrow would be the first day of her suspension, one that she still hadn’t told Naegi about. That was okay. She could wait a day. He wouldn’t know anything was amiss; they weren’t planning on going to Hope’s Peak tomorrow anyways, not when Fujisaki’s funeral was in the morning.

“You’re cold,” she complained. Usually he was like a little furnace. “Why?”

“Aw, does Kyoko need a blanket?” He lazily reached for the floor, and lazily deposited the blanket he found there onto her back. “There you go.”

She glared half-heartedly at him. “I gave you such a good opening, too.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“ _Really_? You can’t think of any _other_ way to warm me up?” Her nails scraped up his thigh. “I’m disappointed, Makoto. There isn’t a language on earth that can describe how disappointed I am in you.”

“Well, that isn’t good.” His breath tickled the back of her neck. “I don’t know how I can live with myself if you’re _that_ disappointed.”

She pushed herself up, so that her face hovered over his. “Then you should do something about that.”

(He took a moment to spit out her hair.) “I guess I have no choice.”

If there was one word to describe Naegi, it was soft: soft-hearted, soft-spoken and easily bruised. He was like a plush teddy bear while she was the sharp edges and rough skin of a mountain. It was always an interesting experience to say the least: trying to slide her gloves over him like she was dragging silk against Velcro without snagging; trying to control the pressure of her non-feeling hands so she didn’t leave marks. He didn’t mind her being rougher with him, but Kirigiri had mental criteria for when she could cross the line, and playful kissing on a couch did not fit. Beyond that though. . . well, that was anyone’s game.

“Kyoko . . .”

She thought nothing of it, until he suddenly grabbed her wrist and scooted away. Her fingers still grazed his waistband and – it wasn’t like they hadn’t done it before – he looked extremely nervous.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I can’t.”

“Makoto?” She touched his face, He shied away from that, too, but only momentarily.

“. . . Fujisaki-kun’s funeral is tomorrow,” he said. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“Alright.” She tried to hide her disappointment. “I’ll take a rain check.”

“We. . .” He squirmed in embarrassment. “We can still cuddle.”

She rolled her eyes, but dropped her head onto his shoulder.

Soft.

* * *

Kirigiri had been to more than a few funerals in the past. For whatever reason, some families of the victims in her cases saw it fit to invite her. Whether that be due to a need for closure or a feeling of gratitude, she didn’t know, but she often made a point of going, even against her grandfather’s wishes. Although she wouldn’t claim that she and Fujisaki were close, apart from her mother’s, this was the first funeral she had attended for someone she knew well.

With that in mind, she forced herself to get over the sight of the looming church. It wasn’t Hope’s Peak – of course not – but the memory of that place had left a taint on all other churches. If Naegi felt the same, he wasn’t saying.

Ishimaru met them at the door, offering to take their coats. Scratch that, Ishimaru practically tore their coats off. She and Naegi exchanged looks and almost told Ishimaru to leave that work to the employees, until they saw him approach the funeral director and desperately ask if there was anything he could do. She understood then: ensuring his best friend’s funeral went as smoothly as possible was part of Ishimaru’s grieving process.

They saw Togami next, watching the entrance as if prepared to write up every officer that failed to attend. She would have ignored him, only Naegi didn’t know about their suspension; Naegi still thought everything was hunky-dory and Togami was the best boss ever. The moment Togami saw Naegi dragging her over, he knew that Naegi didn’t know.

“Naegi. . . Kirigiri.” He said her name carefully, as if expecting her to fly at him.

Naegi said, “Hey, Togami-kun. . . Uh. . . Looks like lots of people are here.”

“Thank you for stating the obvious,” Togami said. “I suppose Fujisaki-kun would have liked a crowd.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Naegi turned to survey the crowd. Kirigiri had done so the moment they walked in. A good portion of the police department was here; they could only hope no major emergencies sprung up today. She had seen Fujisaki’s tear-stricken father; last she checked, Asahina and Oogami were trying to comfort him. There were plenty of others she didn’t know, friends of Fujisaki, that she did not intend to speak to. Did they know she had been the lead detective on the case that killed him? What was she supposed to tell them if they started prying?

She was going to have to figure that out quickly, because Fujisaki’s father had spotted them and was on his way over.

“Kirigiri Kyoko and Naegi Makoto, right?” Fujisaki Taichi asked. Togami had already left. Coward.

“That’s right,” Naegi said, offering a handshake. “We worked with your son.”

“Yes, Chihiro spoke of you two often. He was in awe over your abilities.”

“He was amazing, too. I’ve never met anyone who was that good with technology. Don’t tell Togami-kun I tattled, but he says hiring Fujisaki-kun was one of the best decisions of his career.”

“Thank you. He had a rough start as a child, but he was always brilliant. I’m glad everyone got a chance to see that.” Taichi rubbed at his eyes and during the moment of blindness, Naegi nudged her.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Kirigiri said. Naegi side-eyed her, as if in disapproval, but she wasn’t sure what else she was supposed to say.

“Thank you. I . . . never expected this.” Taichi‘s voice and lip wobbled.

“I promise we’ll find justice for your son. I’ll find out who’s responsible.”

Both men gave her a strange look. Then, Taichi spoke. “I was told my son died of a brain aneurysm.”

It was a good thing she had been between breaths, or the sudden pause would have been too obvious. She scrambled for words, making the ones that did come out falter in a way she wasn’t accustomed to. “Yes. That’s right. Forgive me, I misspoke. Your son was assisting us with a case before he passed. I meant to say that we’ll be sure to follow the case to its finish.”

Naegi broke the awkward silence that followed. “If there’s anything we can do for you, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Thank you.”

Kirigiri had a feeling that Taichi hadn’t entirely bought her lie. Apparently, Naegi hadn’t either, for once Taichi was gone, he grabbed her wrist and whispered into her ear.

“Fujisaki-kun _did_ die of a brain aneurysm, right?”

Her shoulders drooped. “That is what the evidence is pointing towards.”

He frowned at her. “But . . .?”

She had never told Naegi, had she? Come to think of it, Naegi had never seen any of those other pictures she found in the scripture. She considered telling him . . . and almost immediately shut that option down. There was _no evidence_ for her scraped-together theory. Even if it was somehow right, the last thing she needed was Naegi doing something stupid like testing it.

“But nothing,” she said. “It would be easier to bear if there was a but.”

Naegi nodded. “Yeah. Closure, right?”

“Ah, Naegi-kun!” Ishimaru came running over. He skidded to a stop before them, panting, hands on his knees. “Please forgive me for interrupting your conversation. I wanted to ask whether Mondo-kun contacted you recently.”

Naegi checked his phone. “Nope. Why?”

“Nothing to worry about,” Ishimaru said too loudly, “but the service is beginning soon, and he still hasn’t arrived. I’m sure he is merely stuck in traffic.”

“You mean he hasn’t contacted you?” Kirigiri said, immediately pouncing on the gaping hole in Ishimaru’s testimony.

“No. He hasn’t replied to my texts for a few days,” Ishimaru said with a frown. The next second, he was all noise and fake confidence again. “But I saw him through his front window yesterday, so there’s no need to worry.”

“ _Through_ the window,” Naegi repeated.

“Yes,” Ishimaru said. “I tried to visit so we could. . . could g-go over our speech, but he wouldn’t allow me inside his home. I imagine that these last couple of weeks have been very difficult for him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” Naegi said. “But don’t forget about yourself, alright? I know it’s been difficult for you. . .”

“Stop!” Ishimaru pointed straight at Naegi’s chest, as if accusing him of something. “Today my needs cannot matter. This day is not for me, but for Chihiro-kun and all his friends and family.”

“You’re his friend, too.”

“I am not!” Ishimaru barked, and he wiped furiously at his eyes. “I am his Bro.”

While Ishimaru and Naegi spoke, Kirigiri was busy thinking. The last time she had seen Owada, he hadn’t looked well. If he was ignoring Ishimaru, then Owada was worse off then he had revealed to her. It wasn’t in Owada’s nature to avoid others; she would have expected him to lash out or deflect. At the very least, she hoped he was eating properly.

Owada arrived in the nick of time. They were just funneling into the inner sanctum, when Ishimaru loudly called out a greeting. She turned. Owada had nice clothes. He had a crisp black jacket that somehow fit his broad shoulders, a dark tie over his dress shirt, and black shoes that were scuffed up, but forgivable.

And he looked horrible. His spine bent forward in two places, one midway up the back and the other at the neck; it was as if someone was holding Owada by the scruff to keep him standing. He had stubble, as well. Owada portrayed himself as a macho man, but this was the first time Kirigiri hadn’t seen him cleanshaven.

“Right on time for the service, Bro!” Ishimaru said, marching over. “I feared we may start without you.”

Owada didn’t react to the scolding, the mark of one who had spent too much time with Ishimaru. “Yeah, sorry. Lost track of what day it was. S’okay. I took a few caffeine shots before I got here so I ain’t gonna fall asleep.”

“I expect nothing less!” Kirigiri still wasn’t sure if Ishimaru had noticed his friend’s state, even after Ishimaru grabbed the other’s arm as if to support him. “Come, Bro! It is our responsibility to provide Taichi-kun with emotional support.”

As if he was about to make a presidential acceptance speech and not about to watch his best friend’s funeral, Ishimaru’s arms swung at his side as he marched back to the sanctum. His grin was impossibly wide and didn’t move. At all. It was eerie. Owada trudged after him, slumped and gaze straight ahead, until he passed a small desk with Fujisaki’s picture on it. Owada stopped cold and stared at the picture for a long moment. For the first time, Owada looked around and took in his surroundings.

His eyes met hers.

There was no mistaking the spark that blossomed there.

Hate.

* * *

It was a pleasant funeral. Not terribly long – as Fujisaki’s father had pointed out with a shaky laugh afterwards, Fujisaki had always strived for efficiency. Now they were at the mingling, though it was more like offering condolences to the father and then departing. A good chunk of the audience had left always.

“Excuse me, Togami-kun!” Someone walked up to the police chief, waving. “There’s a man making a commotion outside. I think he’s protesting about aliens.”

“I got it covered,” Naegi said before Togami could answer. He flung open the church doors, ran out and wearily called, “Hagakure-kun!”

Kirigiri sighed. Hagakure was a lunatic, but at least he was a _harmless_ lunatic. She would happily replace each member at Hope’s Peak with a Hagakure clone.

“. . . and that bitch knows _exactly_ what happened to him and ain’t doing a thing about it!”

Silence fell. She turned slowly. Owada glared back at her, fists clenched at his sides.

“Is there something you wish to say to me?” Kirigiri asked.

“Acting like I’m the bad guy,” Owada mumbled.

“Bro, Chihiro-kun had a brain aneurysm,” Ishimaru said quietly. “Kirigiri-san cannot be expected to have known about that.”

“That’s not the point!” Owada said, making to push Ishimaru aside, but unable to muster the force required. “People don’t just get brain aneurysms.”

“Actually, that is exactly what happens,” Ishimaru said.

“Not to Chihiro, it didn’t!” Owada spat. “Those bastards gave it to him, and I could prove it if she would just give me the fucking evidence!”

He pointed dramatically at her. She bore it without falter. Technically, she and Owada were on the same page about this. However, if he intended to turn on her like this, then she had no intention of playing along. The evidence was still on the side of a sudden medical emergency with no foul play. Even if her theory were true, to give the scripture to Owada would be immensely irresponsible – and dangerous.

( _ ~~Just as it had turned out to be when she gave it to Fujisaki~~.)_

“I understand you’re grieving,” she said, “but making a scene is not helping anyone. Let’s discuss this in private.”

“I already did!” he snapped. “You threw me out!”

“You two, stop immediately!” Togami barked. Behind him, Asahina gently escorted Fujisaki’s father into another room. “Owada, just because you look like you crawled out of an alleyway does not mean you get to behave that way.”

“Don’t pretend you give a shit!” Owada snarled. “I bet you knew the entire time. You probably told her not to give it to me!”

Togami looked at her. “Kirigiri, what is this cretin talking about?”

 “I gave Fujisaki-kun a text from Hope’s Peak to decipher. It was a religious scripture, nothing more.” She nodded at Owada. “He wants to finish what Fujisaki-kun started.”

“Seriously?” Togami looked like he wanted to shoot someone.

“The answer’s in there,” Owada said. “All the answers are there. I almost got it. I just need that fucking book!”

“I don’t believe for a second that you were able to solve a puzzle Fujisaki could not,” Togami said flatly. “Now, cease this nonsense. . .”

“It’s not nonsense!” Owada roared, and Togami grimaced as a fleck of spit hit him in the cheek. “It’s real. It speaks to me. I know it’s got the answer!”

That was enough. That Owada had taken to confronting and berating her in front of a crowd was terrible enough, but for him to reveal the evidence she had been holding onto? It called for a more aggressive approach.

“Owada-kun, I’m only going to say this once.” She let the silence hang as he waited for her response. “You are out of your mind.”

That seemed to have quieted him. She rubbed her forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Hmm. . . Naegi and her had already passed on their condolences to Fujisaki’s father. It was appropriate to leave.

Halfway to the door, she was shoved to the ground. It wasn’t a deliberate shove, not one from a hand on the back, but from a collision with a solid body. She landed hard, elbows smarting, and rolled over onto her back. Oogami Sakura stood above her, facing away as if she hadn’t even noticed bumping into Kirigiri. Her one arm was extended, fingers wrapped around. . .

Owada’s wrist.

Oogami was standing there above her, squeezing Owada’s wrist as she twisted him away from Kirigiri.

The ruckus started up immediately. (“Owada-kun, punching others is not acceptable in a public environment!”) Owada bellowed, tried to wrench himself free, but Oogami was a better and stronger fighter than him. Togami carefully navigated around the two and upon catching Kirigiri’s eye, gave her a hand gesture that commanded her to leave the building.

She did so quickly, letting the shouting disguise the sound of her hurried footsteps. Naegi was out there, having a conversation with Hagakure. She grabbed his arm and tore him away midsentence.

“Kyoko!”

“Start walking,” she said to him. “Just keep walking.”

“Is something wrong?”

She hesitated. “Not with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Another bombshell is dropped in Kirigiri's lap.


	31. Chapter 31

It was two days into her suspension. Two days of living with that gaping hole where a case should be. It wasn’t that Kirigiri had never had a vacation before, but she knew that she was supposed to be on a case – that she _should_ be on that case – and the conflict between reality and what should be confounded her.

Yesterday had been Fujisaki’s funeral. Today, she had spent the day holed up in her office, going through every bit of information she’d gathered on the case. (Togami hadn’t even asked for them yet.) However, for every page she reviewed, she couldn’t help but remember that it was no good. That if Togami got his way, she would never make use of these notes again.

Her throat itched, demanding water. She ignored the ache and focused on the details of Ikusaba’s missing status as she read it over for a fourth time, committing it to memory. Togami hadn’t told her whether they had found Ikusaba again after she ran off. Togami didn’t care.

 _I had this case. I could solve it._ That frustrated mantra rang over and over in her mind. She had no solid evidence pinpointing Hope’s Peak as the culprit in the case, but sometimes circumstantial evidence proved just as potent. She had proof Nanami had been in contact with Hope’s Peak; strong circumstantial evidence suggesting she had left her house to meet them; evidence that Hope’s Peak had a history of ill-doing; she could point to a place where Hope’s Peak could have stashed Nanami for that month between her disappearance and reappearance. She had so much. She just needed a little more. How dare Togami prevent her from fulfilling her destiny?

The page she was turning ripped as her anger flared.

 _Stop,_ she told herself. Thinking like this wasn’t helping. She had only one copy of this case file. She didn’t want to ruin it.

She should take a break. She stood, surprised at how her limbs creaked and complained. Dizziness overtook her as her body adjusted to the sudden change in height, and she braced herself against the back of the chair for balance. Her shoulder muscles and spine grumbled, feeling as though someone had permanently bent them into a curve.

The smell of cooking wafted into her nose when she walked downstairs. Naegi stood in front of the stove, sautéing vegetables in a frying pan. The constant hum of sizzling made it easy to sneak up behind him and rest her chin on her shoulder.

“Dinner?” she asked.

“Yes,” Naegi said. “It’s five, so I figured I should get started.”

“That late? I hadn’t noticed.”

“I know,” Naegi said, reaching for the pepper. “You’ve been reading those notes since eight.”

“It’s a case with a lot of nuances.” Her hand ghosted down his back, coming to a rest just above his hip. “I need to be through.”

“Ah.” It sounded like he had expected Kirigiri to say something else, but she didn’t know what.

Naegi shooed her away when she offered to help, so that left her to wander the house without anything to do. She wanted to return to her reading, but she swore she was going to take a break, and that was exactly what she would do! Besides, she had ready over everything at least three times. She didn’t know why she still felt like she had missed something.

The doorbell rang. All she could think was that it better not be her father.

When she opened the door, Asahina stood there, wearing a sheepish smile. Like Owada, the officer let herself in without asking, but at least Kirigiri was sure that Asahina had no ulterior motives.

“Hey, Kirigiri-san! Uh, how’s it going?”

“Fine.” She studied Asahina. The woman’s hair was up in a ponytail, but looked stringy and messy. There was a slight shine to her skin when you looked at her from the right angle. Ah. Asahina had come here from the gym. She hadn’t showered before leaving, which in Asahina’s language meant she planned to leap right into her pool when she got home. Not that this was a difficult deduction. Asahina swam every day.

“Great. Awesome!” Asahina said with too much energy. “So, yesterday didn’t bother you at all, right?”

Oh, that was why she was here. Asahina was checking up on her after that mess with Owada. It was nice, if not unnecessary.

“Fujisaki-kun was Owada-kun’s best friend,” Kirigiri said diplomatically. “It’s normal for people lash out when you’re grieving.”

“I know, but I still want to punch him!” Asahina drove her fist into her other palm to emphasize her point. “It’s not your fault you got pulled before you were done investigating.”

“You. . . know?” Something like panic gripped her throat. Was Togami going around telling everyone?

“Um, well, I’m not supposed to know about that. But I heard him talking about it before and you know Togami: when he wants to get something done, he usually gets it done quickly.”

“You heard him say he wanted me removed from the case,” she said slowly.

“Yep. I’m pretty sure that’s what they were talking about. But it was a week or two ago, so I could be wrong. . .”

She grabbed Asahina’s shoulder. “Tell me about this conversation.”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly supposed to overhear them, but Togami’s door wasn’t fully closed – don’t tell him, please! When I got there, he and Naegi-kun were –”

“Hold on. _Makoto_?”

“That’s what I said: Togami and Naegi-kun.” Asahina nodded happily. “Anyways, Naegi-kun wanted Togami to take you two off the case. Togami answered that you wouldn’t let him do that without a reason, but he would try to figure out something. . .”

She didn’t hear the rest of Asahina’s statement. Her thoughts were swirling, lost in a vortex. Naegi had asked Togami for this? He’d gone behind her back to do this? _Naegi_ had?

“Thank you, Asahina-san,” she said robotically.

“Hmm? For what?”

She stepped in front of Asahina, preventing her from moving further into the house. “I need to speak to Makoto in private.”

“Uh, sure.” Asahina backed up until she was beyond the threshold. “I don’t want to get in the way of your . . . Hold on. Did you know that Naegi had –?”

Kirigiri shut the door.

She remained braced against it, watching Asahina’s shadow through the frosted glass. The other woman stayed there for a few seconds, and then departed. Kirigiri’s heart pounded, as if she were a commander who had overseen the repulsion of an invading army. Just as a commander’s would, her thoughts immediately went to the events that had just occurred.

There was no reason for Asahina to lie about that, so she must accept at least some of that testimony was true. And that meant Naegi had played a role in her suspension. Naegi had arranged this.

She found herself walking aimlessly through the house, not knowing where she was going, trusting her feet to lead her. Her brain was a leaking bucket, and the only content that remained when the leak plugged itself was that Naegi had done this to her. Her feet stopped. She stood in a doorway, able to see Naegi reading on the kitchen table. Naegi had planted that seed in Togami’s head.

Naegi had betrayed her.

Despite those thoughts, despite them taking up every ounce of her mental resources, she still felt something close to panic when she saw what Naegi was reading.

“Makoto,” she said tightly, making him jump, “what are you doing?”

“Just browsing.” He tilted the cover of the scripture so that she could see it better and confirm what was in his hands. “Nothing important . . .”

She ripped it out of his grasp. He blinked in surprise, hands still raised and slightly open as if they held the scripture. She wanted to crumple the damn thing into a ball and toss it into the fireplace, but she needed it. It was evidence.

“Kyoko?”

“There’s no point looking at it,” she said waspishly. Was he trying to get himself killed? “You can’t understand it, so even if it held something useful, you wouldn’t know.”

“But I can. . .” He chewed on that thought before switching gears. “It can’t hurt, right? I can’t read it, but if I see that kind of writing somewhere else, at least I’ll know where it came from.”

“There’s no need for that.” She shut the scripture with a decisive _snap_. “If we can’t understand it, what use is it in court?”

She scanned him, hyperalert for any swaying of his body, for dullness in his eyes. He looked okay. He had no idea how close he had come to . . . to what, exactly? She couldn’t answer that, save for assuming it would be bad.

Oh, he was talking. “. . . All I’m doing is keeping an eye on dinner, so it’s not like I needed to do anything else.”

“You’re not reading this.” Against her own best interest, she snapped her next order out. “You’re not permitted to look at this.”

His expression froze. His eyes darted to look at the scripture, but Kirigiri had already hidden it behind her back. The text he had been reading was dangerous. The text he had been reading had _killed Fujisaki_. But he didn’t understand that. How could he? She wondered if she should outright tell him about her suspicion, but eventually decided she couldn’t. She had no evidence to back up what she knew. He wouldn’t believe her.

And . . .

She wasn’t sure if he could be trusted.

She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m going for a walk.”

* * *

Dinner was not pleasant. Clinking utensils had replaced conversation. Naegi tried, but even he sounded subdued and she couldn’t bring herself to look at him at times, let alone hold a conversation with him. After she swallowed her last bite, she simply stood up and cleared her dishes, muttering quick thanks without looking at him.

She stared at her reflection in the kitchen sink. “I’m going out.”

“Oh.” Silence followed. “How long?”

“A while. Don’t wait up for me.”

“Okay.” Naegi shifted in his seat.

Not even asking where she was going? He knew she wasn’t going to Hope’s Peak – he knew about her suspension, didn’t he? Not a surprise. Why wouldn’t Togami contact his partner in crime?

 _If you’re so eager to fight me, Togami, then I hope you remembered that I’m not as passive as Naegi,_ she thought grimly. She had some traitorous thoughts of her own towards her boss. For if Togami had agreed with Naegi, had acted upon his request to remove her from the case, perhaps he knew something about the case that she didn’t.

It was late when she arrived at the police station. The station never closed, but that didn’t mean Togami was here all the time. A quick peek at his dark office told her that he had retired for the night, and it was a simple matter to pick his lock to get in. She closed the blinds so no one would see her, and looked around the room.

If Togami had information on Hope’s Peak, where would he hide it? It would be information that he wouldn’t want anyone else to see; information precious enough he would want to be able to access it without hassle. And of course, only one of those truths mattered in the end. Togami was arrogant and believed no one would ever walk into his office without permission. Which meant he would prize easy access over hiding it, which meant . . .

She pulled open the first drawer. It was the very first folder.

Togami was so predictable.

She played with a childish image of sitting at his chair with her feet on his desk. It would be amusing, though petty, but she had more important things to accomplish. She opened the folder; first appearances suggested that it was a collection of profiles, that Togami had been looking into this case more than he had admitted to them. Interesting.

Enoshima Junko was the first file. If she had to guess, seeing as the profiles focused on their backgrounds, Togami had started his solo investigation after he had eaten lunch at Hope’s Peak that one time. Enoshima, she noted from the file, was the same age as the three of them. She had been in a hospital alongside her sister – nothing unusual there. Togami even had a clipping of the official medical record of their birth. Studying every listed vital would waste time, but thankfully, Togami had created a little cliff notes version at the bottom. The mother’s vitals had been fine, save for a low body temperature. However, the attending nurses had reported abnormal emotional responses and behaviour, claiming the mother had been unexplainably stoic and barely reacted to pain. Furthermore – oh, this was interesting – the nurses had speculated about a psychological disorder. The records went on to say that Enoshima’s mother had ran off with her the day after she was born, abandoning Ikusaba.

The most interesting thing was that Enoshima had no adoption papers on record. Normally, that would simply mean that Enoshima grew up with her mother. Only, Enoshima had claimed she grew up in the church – well, that could imply that Enoshima’s mother was part of Hope’s Peak, but then where was she now? Togami’s notes, too, indicated that he was searching for Enoshima’s mother, but had found nothing.

Ikusaba was next. The same birth record fell out of her folder. There was more: school records, medical reports, everything to suggest she had a regular life up to her disappearance. There was also the missing person’s report that she had found. She almost overlooked it, but then saw the black writing from Togami.

_Kirigiri found this information. How did I not find this in my background search?_

That was a very good question. Standard protocol would mean that Togami’s first action would be to run Ikusaba’s name through the police database, and that missing report surely would have appeared. Why hadn’t that happened?

Kamukura was next. Apart from Togami’s personal observations, the page was blank; Togami hadn’t found anything on him.

Suspicious. She turned the page. Yonaga Angie was next. Togami had scribbled the word _Classified_ under her picture, and she could imagine his terseness when the authorities had rejected his request for information.

Shinguji came next. Like the two before him, the notes on him were brief. _Sightings suggests that he has been travelling with Yonaga Angie. There is no information suggesting why._

Then, the one she had really wanted to see all along:

Komaeda Nagito.

The nearly-blank page wasn’t surprising, but still annoying. It was perfectly sensible that someone as slippery and annoying as Komaeda would evade Togami’s net when the _harmless_ Kamukura had. Only, unlike Kamukura’s profile, there was something else written on Komaeda’s page:

_I’ve seen this name before._

Her spine tingled. She shook it off a moment later; if Togami had no idea where he had heard it, then it was of no use to her. Unless it implied Komaeda or an ancestor had been involved in previous crimes. But that should have shown up in a background check.

There was another page, another profile. Why? She’d seen every member of Hope’s Peak in here. Had Togami found something she hadn’t?

She looked at the last page.

Slowly, her hand curled into a fist.

_There is no evidence that suggests that Kirigiri has a history with them, however her behaviour –_

She slammed the folder shut. That bastard.

That note about Komaeda was interesting though. Normally, Kirigiri would assume that Komaeda Nagito himself didn’t have a criminal history and that was that, but Togami had also missed that Ikusaba was a missing person. She booted up his computer (she obviously knew the password) and navigated to the database.

The search pulled up nothing. She should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

So, where did this leave her? Other than learning that Togami truly did suspect her of working with them, she learned nothing new. She needed more clues. And Hope’s Peak was the only place to get those clues . . .

Something like guilt gnawed at her. Naegi would be very upset if he knew. She couldn’t remember if she had made a promise not to return without him, but she wouldn’t be surprised if she had. But . . . but that was a different time. Before Naegi and Togami had plotted behind her back and accused her of treachery. How ironic. Naegi had once accused her of being compromised, but it was clear that his own fear and paranoia had compromised him instead.

“You. I need a ride!” she snapped at the first lower-ranked officer she saw, counting on Togami having kept her suspension a secret and her own status intimidating the officer into obeying. It went just as planned. She was soon in a car on her way to Hope’s Peak. She’d look for clues there, she’d find something, and then . . .

 _“. . .shouldn’t be walking into dark, creepy places alone without telling me._ ”

Naegi was working against her. Naegi was compromised.

Naegi was compromised.

But . . .

. . .

She took out her phone.

(She still trusted him.)

 _I’m getting a ride to Hope’s Peak,_ she texted him right before she silenced her phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri arrives at Hope's Peak alone.


	32. Chapter 32

It was rare for Kirigiri to feel doubt before an investigation. Yet this swamping sensation that overtook her as she stared at Hope’s Peak couldn’t be anything else. It felt like a shadow had fallen over her vision, that color had bleached out of the world. Each mouthful of air was icier than the last.

It was just nerves. She forced herself to hold strong and pushed her way inside. It was dark inside; it was dark outside. Her saliva ran thin. This reminded her of a different time, of a much more dangerous situation.

But this was different. There was no narrowing tunnel threatening to crush her. She could trip, and the ground wouldn’t rip up her knees. This was entirely different.

Still, when she took the first step into the church and it echoed, she flinched.

It got easier the further she went, as her body realized the walls weren’t closing in. She avoided looking at the confessionals though; she had no reason to go back there anyways. Her intention was to look at those bedrooms she hadn’t seen last time. Rooms that people would likely be sleeping in. It was unfortunate. Daytime, however, wouldn’t have been a much better option as it meant they would know she was here.

 _If they’re in their rooms, I’ll leave_ , she vowed. A hard line like that should keep her from getting into trouble.

She walked up the stairs to the fourth floor. Unlocked. Not even a surprise anymore. She opened the door. Just like that time she had searched Komaeda’s room, all the bedroom doors in the hallway were open and all the lights were out.

_Why does this keep happening?_

Twice now, she had wanted to search the bedrooms. Twice now, they had been like this – as if prepared for her. Had they seen her coming? If they had hidden cameras. . . but that didn’t leave much time for them to react. She had gotten a ride in a civilian car with tinted windows. They wouldn’t have seen her until she set foot outside that car. Was that enough time for them to get the message of her arrival out, leave their rooms like this, and find a hiding spot before she walked into the church and heard anything?

_What was this case?_

If that scenario was correct, that added a new element to the current situation: they had purposely vacated these rooms for her. Precedent would suggest it was because they wanted her to find something. Because that’s was what this was all about, wasn’t it? A body left out in the open. Suspects who happily opened their homes to them and encouraged their presence. A persistent pattern of outsiders with useful information who were either chased away or refused to speak. This was a case meant to be investigated by the police.

_Not the police._

_Naegi and me._

Just _Naegi and me._

The walls were tight around her, as if she were back in that damn cave. The shadows lay heavy; each open room was like a void into nothingness.

_They wanted us. But why?_

Complete calm washed over her. That was fine. The why didn’t matter; those questions were the point of investigating. She would fulfill her duty as a Kirigiri, just as she was meant to.

She had already been through Komaeda and Yonaga’s rooms. She went for Ikusaba’s next and the first impression when she flicked on the light was that . . . it was normal. Well, save for the gun collection on the far wall, but she’d seen rooms like that before. Unlike Komaeda, Ikusaba had a full wardrobe and a bed in her room. Komaeda’s room had also been practical, with little in the way of clutter. Ikusaba’s room had clutter. For example, there were a bunch of stuffed animals on her bed. Some of them, when she ran her fingers through their fur, were matted. That could be from many things: snot, blood, _tears_. She couldn’t picture anyone at their age crying often into a stuffed animal, but Ikusaba had been a kid once, and these plushies didn’t look new.

There were a few boxes under Ikusaba’s bed, mostly filled with toys. No doubt Ikusaba had lived here as a child. It looked more and more likely that Hope’s Peak had indeed kidnapped her. It was sobering, in a way. Kirigiri had been so certain that everyone here was an enemy, but it seemed Ikusaba was another victim.

As Kirigiri mindlessly rooted through the toys, she noticed something was off. There weren’t any strong patterns. Children had preferences, and that should be reflected in the amount and types of the toys they owned. But Ikusaba’s collection seemed random, with only one or two of each type. Some were only half there, as well, like train tracks without a toy train to use them. There were also a few items that were inappropriate, like a beard trimmer. It was like these had been picked at random. Like whomever had bought them knew nothing about children.

On Ikusaba’s wall, there were four framed pictures. Two of them were just Ikusaba and Enoshima, with Ikusaba smiling shyly at the camera, overshadowed by her sister’s huge grin. In one of those photos, they were young children while the other had been taken while they were teenagers. The other two pictures still featured Enoshima and Ikusaba smiling at the camera, at those two same ages in life, but . . . but Ikusaba was blindfolded? Kirigiri couldn’t spot any other restraints, nor any overt signs of distress. It looked consensual. Additionally, in those two strange photographs, a huge shadow was centered on the wall. Giving the framing, it couldn’t be by accident. She couldn’t tell what made the shadow, either; the outline was much too irregular.

On Ikusaba’s desk, there was a single paper and pen. The writing was in the same language that the scripture was, but each line of the paper only contained one symbol. It reminded her of a worksheet in kindergarten, where children learning the alphabet sketched the same letter over and over again.

Could it be?

Was Ikusaba still learning?

Kirigiri eagerly rooted through the other papers in Ikusaba’s drawers, hoping to find one that translated the scripture’s language. She didn’t find what she wanted, but that didn’t mean she found nothing interesting. For at the bottom of one of the drawer, there was another scripture.

Kamukura had once said he didn’t know if Ikusaba had her own copy. This seemed like evidence that she did. Combined with the other clues Kamukura had let slip and that Kirigiri knew she didn’t have Komaeda’s copy, it meant one thing: Enoshima Junko had owned the scripture that Kirigiri had taken home.

Enoshima Junko had owned the copy that killed Fujisaki.

This was news. _Finally,_ there was evidence pointing toward a single culprit. Though Komaeda’s copy also had a picture of the crime scene – the two did often seem to be in cahoots. She should check this one too.

She flipped through until she found the first page after the main text, where the images had started in the other two. No dead woman was found on these pages, but there was something there. A picture that resembled the shadow found in those two photos. That, and two sentences.

_Can you hear me._

_Yes._

Who had Ikusaba been communicating with? Why answer it within this same book? It was an extremely inconvenient way to communicate. Kirigiri flipped the page and a single sentence greeted her.

_This is not meant for your eyes._

What –?

 _Smack_.

It was a sudden rap across the knuckles. She ripped her hand away and cradled it close to her chest because . . . had that just happened? Did the scripture just _close_ on her hand? That wasn’t possible. and Yet so much about this case was impossible. So much of it defied explanation or went against the natural rules of the world.

For the first time, Kirigiri truly began to wonder:

_What have we gotten ourselves into?_

Kirigiris didn’t fear – Kirigiris couldn’t fear. But for once in her life, she didn’t reprimand herself as she felt those slithery, cold tendrils lick up her spine. This case was beyond anything she had ever seen. Naegi was right.

No, Naegi hadn’t been right. No wonder this case was so difficult when he had been sneaking behind her back and sabotaging her.? She understood he was afraid and had good reason for being so, but at the very least couldn’t he let her do her job –?

. . .

Something felt wrong.

Come to think of it, she and Naegi had been on the rocks recently. Keeping secrets, accusing each other – even if only mentally – of betrayal. She couldn’t think of anything that had created such a schism between them. Even during her search for her father, while he had expressed concern over her obsessiveness several times, he had never actively undermined her. He had never gone to bargain with Togami without her. Why was this case having such a mental and emotional toll on them?

She took a step back.

_Perhaps . . . perhaps they had been right._

She quickly put everything back, and then rushed out of the room. Something was wrong. Something was wrong with this case, with _her_. She needed to withdraw and regroup, needed to inform Naegi that she was doing so before he lost his mind with worry – Christ, he must be on his way to the church now. How had she not realized that would be the outcome?

Leaving had been the plan, and she had intended to stick to it, but a sudden gleam from Shinguji’s room snagged her attention. Just a peek. A peek to verify she wasn’t missing something important (something dangerous) and then she would be on her way.

Was this a room? It looked more like a museum. There were barely any personal items, and nothing like a bed and closet. Shinguji’s ‘room’ was decorated with glass cases and stands filled with artifacts, labelled in languages she had never seen before. But once the light flickered on, the gleam made it easy to tell what had caught her eye: a long knife. It was double-edged with a diamond-shaped head like a garden spade –

Like a garden spade.

This could be the murder weapon.

. . . She couldn’t take it with her without making it obvious it was gone.

So be it. She had found the clues she wanted. Now it was time to leave.

It felt like she had never moved faster without straight-out running; the staircase never felt longer. She made it downstairs without incident though and rushed toward the entrance . . .

At that moment, the door slammed open and Naegi stumbled in.

“Kyoko!” he cried, oblivious to her distress, to her regret. “What are you doing here? Why would you come without me?”

“Be quiet!” She clamped her hand over his mouth. With her glove, it took a bit for the moisture to seep in, but when it did, she realized he was soaked. Even his ahoge was just barely sticking up.

“Did you fall in a puddle?” she asked.

“No.” He shook himself like a dog, splashing her with water. “The storm out there is _really_ bad.”

. . . What storm?

The wind screamed at her when she opened the door to the outside. She thought someone threw a water balloon in her face, that’s how intense the rain was. It fell across the world in a sheet, carried by the icy winds. The moisture in the air was so thick that her clothes were already growing damp.

“Did you bring an umbrella?” she asked

“Uh, no. I got a cab to drive me here. . . guess he already took off.” He laughed nervously. “Talk about unlucky, eh. . .?”

 “That’s quite a nasty storm, isn’t it?”

She was not afraid. A Kirigiri did not fear criminals. She turned slowly to face Komaeda’s wide smile. The pastor stood there behind them, hands hidden behind his back, just at the very edge of the zone where he could present a physical threat. There was no sign of where he had come from. Apparently, Komaeda hadn’t seen it fit to turn on the lights either.

“Yes, it is,” Naegi said. “Good thing you guys don’t have to go out there.”

“I don’t think it would bother us very much,” Komaeda said casually. “Junko and Izuru haven’t even returned from their walk yet.”

What did Komaeda want? She wasn’t naïve enough to believe that he just wanted to say hi. Speaking of which, he had yet to say anything about them walking into his church without any forewarning. That wasn’t normal.

( _Bedroom doors open. Lights out. As if they had been prepared for her_.)

“We should leave before the storm gets worse,” she said to Naegi, nearly shoving him out into the storm.

“You’re going out in that?” Komaeda asked, eyebrows raised. “I don’t think that’s very safe for people.”

“We’re not walking,” she snapped. While keeping eye contact, she took out her cellphone and dialed the cab company.

The phone rang.

And rang.

“. . . Hello?”

She hadn’t realized she had been holding her breath. “Hello. I would like to request a cab at –”

“Hello? Anyone there?”

She paused. “Yes. I’d to order a cab.”

“Hello?”

The call ended. She assumed the company had hung up, until she glanced at her phone screen.

“I’ve lost the signal,” she said aloud, stunned.

“That storm must be very bad,” Komaeda remarked.

She wasn’t afraid. “Let’s go.”

Naegi followed her outside without a word. They could barely see the parking lot walls through the rain. She raised an arm to shield herself and pushed forward. The wind fought her every step of the way, forcing her to dig her heels in.

When they finally breached the exit to the parking lot, Naegi found his voice. “Kyoko? There’s no way we’re going to make it back home.”

The weight of Naegi’s statement settled in. Yes, she knew that, but the alternative. . .

“We’ll make it,” she said, forcing herself to sound confident.

“I . . . Hey, was that a hamster?”

“We don’t have time to go chasing after rodents. . .”

“Kyoko, wait!”

Naegi ran up to her. With the wind battering his small body, he seemed barely able to stay upright.

“Look, there’s no way we’re making it back to the city,” he said. “But Tanaka-kun’s place is nearby. It’s safe there.”

She didn’t like Tanaka. She didn’t trust Tanaka. But she trusted Komaeda and his stooges even less.

The nice thing about Naegi’s plan was that they had to go around the church, and its big form blocked the rain while they stuck close to its side. When they reached the back, however, it was just as bad as ever.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“The trees will help block the rain,” Naegi said. His dress shirt was see-through by now. “We don’t have another choice.”

She grabbed his hand. “Stay close.”

They walked into the forest together. As Naegi promised, the rain and wind weren’t as intense in there. Instead, the trees rattled and groaned around them. The ground had turned to mud, sucking at them, squelching when they moved after staying in place too long. Thunder cracked above, deep and rolling like a lion’s roar.

Naegi, surprisingly, led the way. A forest was hard to navigate on the best of days. A forest at night in the middle of a rainstorm? How in the world did he know where he was going? He seemed to though, or at least he was pretending as he didn’t slow down – even though she wished he would.

Then, the ground disappeared. The abrupt drop squashed the gasp in her lungs as her right leg suddenly plunged knee-deep into the muck. It caused her to yank hard on Naegi’s arm, for his slippery limb to slip between her fingers. He stopped immediately and reached for her.

“I’m fine,” she said. She looked around. It was hard to tell in this weather, but going by the softness of the ground and the green things still stuck to her leg . . .

“We’re in the swamp,” she said. “We’ve gone the wrong way.”

“. . .No, we haven’t,” Naegi said.

She gave him a look. “Makoto, the swamp isn’t between Tanaka’s place and Hope’s Peak.”

“This isn’t the wrong way,” Naegi repeated. “Come on.”

He pulled her out of the hole, barely giving her time to recover before pulling on her again. They were definitely in the swamp. Every other step now, she either slid or the ground gave way, plunging her ankle into the cold water. Yet somehow, despite being the less graceful of the two, Naegi seemed to plough through the swamp without any problems. He was constantly tugging on her, forcefully leveraging her out of hollows and setting a pace that made her breathe hard.

And that, in the end, was exactly what brought her down. Her foot plunged into a hole again, this one again up to her knee. The ground inside tilted as well, catching her foot at an odd angle. Before she could say something, before she could even think to loosen her grip, Naegi pulled again –

Practice and instinct smothered the cry. Neither could keep her upright. The swamp rushed towards her – then she was underwater. The cold liquid rushed up her nose, paralyzing her, turning her lungs into a block of ice, until Naegi’s hand found her collar. The rain-filled air was cold, but the water itself had been colder, and the change in heat as he pulled her head from underwater made her dizzy.

“. . . Sorry, I’m so sorry!” Naegi was saying. “I didn’t mean to.”

Her teeth chattered. Water was soaking into her undergarments, but she didn’t try to stand. “It’s fine. Makoto, we have a problem.”

“There’s probably something in Tanaka-kun’s house you can change into,” Naegi said. “At the very least, there’s blankets in there.”

“Makoto, that’s not –”

He tried to lift her to her feet again and the moment her weight shifted onto that ankle, she shoved him away. The water, the cold had numbed the feeling, but now there was no ignoring the pain that grabbed her nerves and shook them. She clamped her hands over her ankle, squeezing it just as her teeth squeezed together.

“What’d I do now?” Naegi cried, pulling at his hair.

“My ankle’s sprained,” she said dully.

The rain battered the ground around them. Naegi swore.

“It can’t be too far away,” Naegi said. He slipped his shoulder under her armpit and lifted, staggering as he bore her weight.

“Makoto. . .”

“It’s fine.” He flashed her a strained smile. “Just trust me. I’ll get you there.”

The wind had shifted. Now, the rain hit them directly in the face. It turned the world into one that was underwater, and she could barely make out Naegi, let alone the terrain around them. No wonder then, that it took less than a minute for Naegi to fall.

“What was that?” he cried, kicking at the water.

She took a deep breath, acting calm for the both of them. “Makoto, it’s alright. It’s hard to navigate in this.”

“That’s not it! Something . . .” He bit his lip. Whatever he was thinking, it went unsaid as he tried to stand, only to fall again with a yelp.

Her teeth chattered. It was very, very cold out here.

“Naegi-kun? Kirigiri-san?”

She looked up. The rain seemed to lessen in that moment, allowing her to see who had spoken. Kamukura Izuru stared at her, shielded from the rain by an umbrella. Enoshima stuck close to him, sharing the shelter.

“What are you two doing out here?” Enoshima asked. “I definitely did not take Kirigiri to be the type that likes to frolic in the rain.”

“Police stuff,” Naegi said, still struggling to detach himself from the mud. “We’re fine.”

Enoshima made a noise of acknowledgement as she looked them over. “So, Kirigiri, you planning on sitting in the mud all day?”

She didn’t answer. Even if it hadn’t been one of _them_ asking, every instinct she had told her to keep that weakness to herself.

“You really shouldn’t be out here,” Kamukura said. “It’s cold enough to get hypothermia.”

“We’re not planning on sticking around,” Naegi grumbled. “We’re fine.”

“Oh my god,” Enoshima said slowly. “You’re totally planning on huddling up in that hut, aren’t you? That thing doesn’t even have heating!”

“We’re _fine_ ,” Naegi stressed, standing now.

Kamukura looked at him pityingly. “Naegi-kun, don’t be like this. Look, you can spend the night with us.”

While they spoke, the world spun a little. Kirigiri let her head dip and her eyes closed, chin smacking into her chest. She was cold, she was tired, and she wanted these two to go away.

“I told you, we’re fine!”

“You are definitely not fine. Look at you. You’re covered in mud and . . .”

She twitched. Her eyes snapped open like someone had slapped her. Great, was she numb enough that her brain was succumbing to micro-sleeps -?

“Alright.”

She looked up. Naegi was still standing there, but his head was bowed as he addressed the other two.

“Fine, we’ll go back,” he said.

“There we go! Way to stop being a dumbass!” Enoshima said to him, throwing her arm around his shoulder.

“Here.” Kamukura swooped down and he seriously couldn’t be –

He was.

“Put me down!” Kirigiri snapped.

Kamukura sighed. “Naegi-kun told us you couldn’t walk, so unless you have another way to get back. . .”

“If you’re worried about Naegi-kins getting jealous, I can carry him!” Enoshima offered cheekily.

Naegi said, “No. Just. . . let’s go.”

Slumped, Naegi began the trek back to Hope’s Peak, and the rest of them followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri's lost her appetite.


	33. Chapter 33

Komaeda was in the nave when they returned, meaning he could see them. Had she been a less composed woman, her cheeks would have flushed red. The storm had drenched her, had splattered her with mud and most importantly, Kamukura was still carrying her. She wanted to thrash about like a rabbit until he put her down, but her pride decided keeping still was the best option.

“I’m glad you two are okay,” Komaeda said with a smile. “I got worried when you ran out there. You’re soaked, though.”

“I’m not wearing a habit again,” Naegi said.

Komaeda’s head tilted slightly to one side, as if considering Naegi’s demand. “Well, maybe you’re small enough to fit Yonaga-san’s clothes.”

“That’s even worse!”

Kirigiri prodded Kamukura in her chest. “Put me down.”

He did. Naegi was right there, sliding under her arm as if he had been born to be her crutch. Enoshima giggled – at what? – and then tried to leave, tugging on her boyfriend’s arm to draw him away. They almost walked off, but Komaeda cleared his throat.

“Junko, can you find some clothes for Kirigiri-san?”

“I’ll whip something up,” Enoshima said before departing for real.

“. . . I’m going to have to wear the habit, aren’t I?” Naegi mumbled.

“It’s that or Yonaga-san’s bikini,” Komaeda said with a smirk. “Although you could stand around in those dirty clothes, too.”

Naegi looked at Kirigiri pleadingly.

“It’s not healthy,” she told him. “It’ll only be until it dries. Don’t look at me like that. It wasn’t that bad.”

Thunder rumbled outside. Komaeda cast his eyes to the ceiling, as if he could see beyond it to the clouds above. He beckoned them forward.

“I’ll show you a place to sleep. Unfortunately, we don’t have anything on the ground floor. Naegi-kun, will you be able to get her up the stairs?”

“Of course, I can,” Naegi muttered, lurching in a way that suggested he wanted to shoulder Komaeda as they staggered past the pastor.

As they made their way to the stairs, Kirigiri checked her phone. If she could, she would gladly call Togami right now, face the reprisal for her insubordination, but her phone found no signal. There was no telling how long this storm would last, how long it would be until they could call for help. Unless Naegi had alerted someone before he left – and she had a sinking feeling he hadn’t – nobody knew they were here.

Navigating the stairs was slow going. There simply wasn’t a way to climb them without placing weight on her injured ankle, and it stung. Naegi did the best he could to bear her weight, but he was small. Komaeda offered his hand, too, but Kirigiri flatly refused to take it and Naegi didn’t seem inclined to convince her otherwise.

The room Komaeda led them to was blank and unremarkable with a single bed, concrete walls and concrete floors. It reminded her of Komaeda’s room, or of a jail cell with a nice view. There was a small, circular carpet on the ground, a closet, a chair and a desk, but nothing else. Naegi helped her into the chair and Komaeda . . . Komaeda just stood there and watched like a creep. Thankfully, Komaeda left afterwards, promising to find them temporary clothes.

“Are you okay?” Naegi asked.

“I’m fine,” Kirigiri said as she rubbed her aching ankle. She was fine; her leg was just tender, that’s all. It was never easy getting up stairs with a strained ankle –

_And it wouldn’t be that easy getting down, either._

She froze. Her brain rebooted and demanded that she check her phone again. No signal. She placed some weight on her injured leg to test it; it flared up with pain. Then it was true: she was stuck. Not only at Hope’s Peak, but she might be trapped on this very floor. If she didn’t know better, she would say they planned this.

“. . . This sucks,” Naegi muttered. He stood between her and the door like a guard dog. He, having resigned himself to changing clothes, had already stripped off his socks ands shoes. “Why did you come here anyways?”

“. . . I may have found the murder weapon,” she said, not answering his actual question. “It was a knife I found in Shinguji’s bedroom.”

“Shinguji?” Naegi said. “I didn’t think he would end up being our culprit. Unless you think someone took the knife from his room and used it.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Talking about murder possibilities was familiar, comforting; it was something she knew, and something she knew well. But now was not the time for easy questions, not when she had a pressing one that needed to be asked. “Makoto, did you tell anyone we were here?”

“No, I . . . You mean you didn’t tell anyone else?”

“I did not.” His panic was visible, and she could sympathize – god, she could sympathize – but Naegi panicking was the last thing she wanted. “Hope’s Peak isn’t aware of this. If we don’t say anything, they’ll likely assume that someone, at least Togami-kun, knows.”

Komaeda returned a minute later with their temporary clothes. To no one’s real surprise (although Naegi still looked like he had opened a Christmas gift and it contained coal), he handed Naegi a habit, reminding the smaller man that they honestly had no males present that were his size. However, Komaeda had given her no warnings that she would receive something similar, and when she held Ikusaba’s habit aloft and gravity unroll it, she reserved the right to show disgust.

“This is all you have?” she said, words dripping with scepticism.

“Ikusaba-san never went through that shopping phase. I think she took most of them with her two when she ran off; she disappeared after your chief took her down to the station.” Komaeda said that in a pointed way, pinning her with his eyes, as if decrying that this was her doing.

She looked the outfit over. Plain. Black. Long. Came with a veil which she did not intend to wear. If she had been here alone, spite might have won and she would have refused to change. But Naegi was here with her, following her lead, and if she refused then he would, too. And she hadn’t been kidding when she said she wanted him out of those wet clothes.

“There’s showers down the hall,” Komaeda said to them. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

And Komaeda was gone. Finally. She hated taking his advice, but he was right that they should shower first. Naegi knew, as well, and when she stood up, he immediately fit himself under her shoulder and led her to the showers.

“Makoto?” she questioned when she stepped into the washroom and he didn’t follow. “It will be faster if we shower together.”

Naegi shuffled his feet. He looked away, as if embarrassed. “. . . Uh, I wanted to stand guard.”

She couldn’t fault him for thinking that way. She, herself, had already planned to sweep the bathroom for cameras.

She tried to shower quickly, but getting mud out of long hair was no easy feat. It took ten, twenty minutes before she was clean and dressed in front of the mirror. Ikusaba was a couple of inches taller than her, meaning the habit wrapped itself under her shoes. Given her current state, she’d have to be especially careful not to trip over it. More annoying though was that the habit was . . . tight around the chest. She reminded herself it was only until her regular clothes were clean.

When she exited, Yonaga was speaking to a bugged-out Naegi. Normally, Kirigiri wouldn’t care _too_ much. This time, she had to take a moment to collect herself. Yonaga clearly had also been outside, but for some reason she _hadn’t_ wore her raincoat. Meaning she only had that skimpy, white bikini and flipflops. It showed way, way too much skin – Kirigiri did not need to see that tattoo on her upper thigh - and Yonaga was _much_ too bubbly and close to Naegi.

“Where are your clothes?” Kirigiri swore that she didn’t mean for that to be her opening statement, but it slipped out.

“Hmm? I’m wearing them. Why would I be wearing anything else?” Yonaga asked. “It would have gotten wet.”

“You were out during the storm. Why?”

“Because this storm was brought to us by the Great Atua! I wanted to show my appreciation,” Yonaga said with a too-happy smile.

Kirigiri just stared. Then she turned to Naegi. “Why don’t you take your shower?”

Naegi hurriedly retreated to the washroom, and Kirigiri’s nerves unclenched a little. She would have assumed Yonaga was trying to seduce him, but something about Yonaga’s wide eyes and petite statue gave her an innocent appearance, made Kirigiri read only innocent intentions from her. Somehow, that was even more annoying.

“I told Makoto he can ask me if he needs anything!” Yonaga said, somehow making saying that in a way that didn’t insinuate anything. “I hope you two enjoy your stay!”

Yonaga started to prance off, humming. Kirigiri, for a reason she didn’t quite understand, called after her.

“Yes?” Yonaga asked, granting her all the attention that an admiring toddler would give their babysitter.

“. . . You say Atua speaks to you.”

Where was this coming from? Kirigiri herself wasn’t quite sure. But as she asked, her stomach churned, flipflopping over itself. She remembered arriving earlier, to a scene where all the lights were out, and the bedroom doors unlocked. Her mouth ran dry and she smacked her lips together.

“Yes. The Great Atua has chosen me as his proxy.” Yonaga’s hands, palms up, rose to shoulder height. Despite her attire, she managed to look devout.

“ _How?_ ” Kirigiri grated out.

Yonaga blinked. “He speaks to me.”

“Yes, but how?”

“I don’t understand why you’re confused. I speak to Him like you were speaking to Makoto,” Yonaga said slowly.

“But Atua’s not human, correct? He’s a god.”

Yonaga stared at her. Then, the light of understanding dawned on her. She clapped her hands together and bounced on her tiptoes. “Oh, I understand! I don’t need a scripture like the others do to talk to the Elders, cause Atua’s right here! Praise Atua!”

“. . . They use a scripture. . . to talk to. . .”

“You really don’t know anything, do you?”

Normally, the matter-of-fact way that heinous statement was delivered would have greatly offended her. But with the encroaching feeling of being trapped within this place, with the memory of the cave snapping at her heels and the overwhelming realization that she had judged this case wrongly from the start, she couldn’t be upset. Because Yonaga was correct.

Kirigiri still lied. “I know more than you think.”

Kirigiri knew how to hide her emotions. She was certain none of her fear showed. Yet, Yonaga acted as if Kirigiri had spelled her true feelings out on a neon board. To her unparalleled surprise – it came so fast she couldn’t stop it – Yonaga . . . hugged her.

“It’s okay,” Yonaga said. “You don’t need to worry. Everything’s under control. One day, you’ll see that everything that’s happened has just been part of one great divine plan.”

* * *

When Naegi finished showering, he found her sitting on the ground. At first, he thought it was funny, then he started babbling apologies when he remembered her sprained ankle. She waved him off, trading his apology for an offer to help her back to the room. She draped her arm around his neck, shivering as her flesh brushed against his cold skin.

Once they were back in the bedroom, even though Naegi pleaded for her to rest, she couldn’t stop herself from searching every inch for surveillance devices. She hobbled from one spot to another, crawling when she had to. She found nothing, and that was much more disturbing than if there had been a camera.

“Here.” Naegi thrust a cane into her hand. “You weren’t paying attention, but Shinguji-kun just came by and gave it to me. He says it’s like four-hundred years old.”

She understood why Naegi would want her to use it, but she still hated the suggestion. A cane was like someone was walking behind her with a bullhorn and constantly screaming into it that she was vulnerable.

“It’s nearly midnight. I guess we could go to bed,” Naegi said.

“Go ahead,” she said. “I’ll keep watch.”

“But you. . .”

“This will keep me up for a while,” she said, gesturing to her leg. “Even if I hadn’t sprained it, I’m not keen on sleeping in a place filled with murder suspects.”

“I understand. Then I should –”

“No, you sleep. At least one of us should be recharged for tomorrow.”

He climbed awkwardly into bed, and then stared at her with big eyes, pleading with her to change her mind. She rolled her eyes, then flicked the lights out. In the faint light coming through the window, she saw his eyelids close, his trust in her stronger than his fear of this place.

She spun the cane on its axis. She wasn’t trapped on this floor, was she? No, she couldn’t be. She simply refused to be. She stood carefully, hobbled out the door and closed it behind her. She eyed the staircase down the hall, sizing it up. She’d have to change how she approached the stairs, but she could do it.

And that’s exactly what she intended to prove. She walked into the staircase, took a deep breath, and then began to climb. It . . . it was difficult. She leaned against the wall, trying to balance her weight between that and the cane whenever she had to lean weight on that side. Her ankle groaned on each step. She climbed slowly, step by step, forcing herself to focus on nothing more than the next.

She made it to the next floor and once there, wasn’t eager to immediately head down again. That meant she was once again in the hallway with everyone’s bedrooms. Unlike her previous forays into this area, they were occupied. She could tell by the light in the crack under the doors and . . . good, it looked like everyone was in their room. That was a bit reassuring. She couldn’t be certain they were actually there though as the doors were all closed, except for one. A single door, not belonging to a room she had searched before, was open. She moved towards it.

 _Kamukura_ , the nameplate said. Ah, good. Not one of the more openly dangerous ones.

Kamukura’s room seemed normal, as least as much as that word meant in this place. His room looked like a college dorm room, although she didn’t see a place to store clothes. Like the others, there was something unique to Kamukura’s room: pets. A large tank straddled the space between the desk and the bed Kamukura was reading in. The tank wasn’t fancy, but there were creatures inside it, long, white, _big_ fish that resembled eels. They had long whiskers that trailed through the water after them, like ribbons in a hypnotizing dance.

Before she could decide what to do, Kamukura rolled onto his side. She backed up, just enough so she wasn’t directly in the doorway, but so she was close enough to still see inside. Kamukura, not expecting her, occupied with his own activities, didn’t notice her. He placed a finger on the tank wall and slowly moved it in a circle. One of the eel-fish saw and locked onto the movement, swirling around and around as it followed Kamukura’s finger.

Then – it was so fast – something broke the surface of the water. She hadn’t seen Kamukura move, but suddenly that eel was thrashing and splashing as he dragged it out of the water. The fish’s tail whipped back and forth, smacking against the glass as Kamukura lowered it to face height. He turned it over so that it faced away from him.

The sound of the eel’s spine snapping under his teeth cracked through the air. The tremor rang out through his entire jaw as he broke the bone, as if someone had poked the muscles with live wire. The fish twitched as Kamukura tore away a chunk of flesh. Eyes half-closed, he chewed contently.

And he was looking right at her.

“Kirigiri-san?” For the first time, she saw the long, pointed tips of Kamukura’s teeth. No, that was misleading; it wasn’t a set of teeth like hers or Naegi’s. These were _fangs_ , like a wolf. Like a predator.

She backed away as Kamukura started to stand. The world crunched in around her. Her legs weren’t moving. They forced her to stay as Kamukura took a long step forward. She thought she heard someone call her name and –

She gasped. In her haste to sit up, she slipped and her head fell back against the pillow. Pillow? She looked around. She was in the room Komaeda had assigned her. Naegi was nearby, happily in his own clothes again, tightening his tie’s knot in front of a mirror.

“Morning!” he said. “I was just about to wake you and see if you wanted breakfast. Komaeda said it was ready about five minutes ago.”

Kamukura had an ahoge like Naegi and brown hair like Naegi’s. He was like a larger version of Naegi.

“You don’t have to eat breakfast. You can always eat later,” he said. “You didn’t get much sleep, did you?”

 _I thought I was keeping watch._ Had she imagined that? Dreamed that? Then where did the dream end and reality begin?

“Having a _happy_ meal with them is not my definition of pleasant,” she rasped.

“I can sympathize.” His face lit up with understanding. “You’d have a hard time getting down there too, wouldn’t you? If you’re hungry, I’ll bring you something.”

She thought she nodded dumbly, but honestly, she didn’t know what was going on. That dream (was it a dream?) had felt so real. That snap of the spine was still sharp in her ears. She came back to earth only after Naegi had left and in that moment, she felt alone. She checked her phone: no signal.

She curled up in bed, knees to her chest, feeling not unlike a child. There was an aching hollow inside her, yearning for touch, for comfort. Yet when Naegi returned, she couldn’t bring herself to ask for cuddles, and he was too busy eating to notice.

She looked at what he had brought her, and her stomach clenched.

“You’re not hungry?” Naegi asked, fork sticking out of his mouth.

She pushed the plate away. No. Not for fish. Not after that.

Naegi took her plate and chomped down. He paused midbite with a peculiar expression.

“It’s not what I expected,” he said aloud. “It tastes different.”

He still ate it. Her stomach complained of hunger, but she wasn’t sure she could hold anything down.

“Hey, so I . . . Look, I want to apologize for yesterday,” Naegi said. “You were right.”

“I was right?” she repeated. “About what?”

“About trying to drag you through the swamp with a sprained ankle. It was selfish of me to do that, especially since I wanted to run because I was scared. I’m glad you beat some verbal sense into me.” He looked over at her and smiled. “It just sucks that they didn’t have a place for you on the first floor.”

“. . . When did we have this conversation again?”

“When Enoshima and Kamukura found us in the swamp,” he said. “Are you having trouble remembering? I wouldn’t be too surprised; I was scared you were catching hypothermia.”

Nothing in his tone or body language betrayed that he was lying. But Kirigiri knew that she had never said such words. She also would have also preferred ending up at Tanaka’s place rather than here.

_What . . . What does this mean?_

She checked her phone.

She swore something giggled when she saw there was still no signal.


	34. Chapter 34

Boring was not a word she usually associated with Hope’s Peak, yet here she was. Without access to her notes or other cases and with her movement restricted, she didn’t have much to do. Naegi had managed to scavenge a couple of books from Mukuro’s room, but there was only so much reading she liked. Speaking of Naegi, he, too, was restless; his knee bounced as he stared longingly at the exit.

“Go,” she told him.

“I’m sorry?”

“Go move around,” she said. “You don’t have to stay here all day.”

“But . . .”

“I’m awake. I’m alert. I can handle myself if anything happens.”

He made a show of reluctance, but she could tell he wanted to listen. Eventually, she chased him out, leaving her along to sulk. At least she had a comfy pillow for her ankle.

She returned to her book. It was a war story, nothing interesting. Thus, when Yonaga poked her head in, Kirigiri noticed. The small woman entered the room without asking, looking around as if she had never seen this place before.

“Hey, hey Kyoko! Whatcha reading?”

“One of Ikusaba-san’s books,” she said, trying to insert into her voice how very much she did not want Yonaga there.

“Oh? I bet it’s filled with lots of blood and violence! Mukuro likes those. She likes to look down on other people.”

“She seems rather devoted to her sister,” Kirigiri said.

“Yes?” Yonaga said that as if Kirigiri was missing something obvious. “It’s too bad Mukuro doesn’t serve Atua though. I bet she’d be really good at finding offerings.”

“Offerings?” That word could mean anything from feasts to speeches to much more unpleasant things.

“Don’t worry! Atua said we’ll get too much attention right now if we tried to give him blood sacrifices.”

Did Yonaga just admit . . . ? True, she had specified that they hadn’t truly committed the act, but she had seriously considered . . .?

Yonaga strolled over and squatted next to her bed. To Kirigiri’s displeasure, Yonaga laid her head on Kirigiri’s shoulder as if she sought to read the book, as well.

“Was there something you wanted?” Kirigiri asked pointedly.

“Yep! I wanna be closer to you!”

“Close,” Kirigiri said flatly. “Me and you.”

“Of course.” Yonaga withdrew and wandered over to the foot of the bed. She plopped down there. “Atua says that me, you and Mukuro should be close cause we all got so much in common.”

“Where is Ikusaba-san?” Kirigiri asked. “Komaeda-kun said she disappeared.”

“She’s fine. The Elders are watching over her,” Yonaga said flippantly. “But she had to go away for a while cause the police chief is being an ‘annoying pain in the ass!’ ”

It was strange to hear Yonaga swear, as she said that word with the exact same carefree cadence she said everything else. She did seem to know she said something bad though, as she did this weird thing where she squished her cheeks.

Well, if they were talking about Ikusaba, she could try to get some answers. “What would you say Ikusaba-san is like? I didn’t speak to her much.”

“Mukuro is a wonderful follower!” Yonaga gushed. “You should keep a close eye on her, so you could learn how to serve Them better. Not that you need to be _too_ worried. Atua says everyone’s happy with you. But you should come pray with us when she gets back! Mukuro doesn’t pray to Atua like I do, but it’s still loads of fun and we get ice-cream after.”

“Can we return to my question? What is Mukuro _like_?”

“She’s quiet,” Yonaga said. “I think I’m too loud and scare her sometimes, but I can’t help it cuz Atua’s the best and it’s so fun to be His voice! Poor Mukuro doesn’t get to be a voice, cause _she_ likes to be in charge of everything.”

“Alright, Ikusaba-san’s quiet. What else? Would you say she’s a passive person? Would you expect her to stand up for herself?” Kirigiri pushed.

“Huh? She always listen to Atua’s will unless Junko tells her not to, but that’s pretty normal, right?”

Angie left it there as if that somehow answered her question. Kirigiri held back a groan. Even when they were cooperating, the people here were overly difficult.

She tried again. “Seeing that you know Ikusaba-san, I want your opinion on something. . .”

“Nyahahaha! Kyoko’s asking for my opinion. Ohhhh, I wonder what for?”

“I would tell you if you didn’t interrupt me,” she said through gritted teeth. “I witness some strange behaviour from Ikusaba-san. We. . . I was trying to speak with her, but she wasn’t responding well. Then her demeanour suddenly became aggressive and scornful. It was unlike anything I had ever seen from her before, to the point where she was like another person.”

“I see, I see,” Yonaga said. “So, what’s the question?”

“. . . What do you make of that change in behaviour?” she said slowly.

Yonaga shrugged. “It probably wasn’t Mukuro.”

“I brought her to the station myself. That was Ikusaba Mukuro,” Kirigiri said flatly. She couldn’t believe Yonaga had suggested that.

Yonaga tilted her head to one side. She peered at her with those big eyes. “Nagito says you and your grandfather are the best detectives in the world. That means you have a really big brain, right?”

“. . .Yes?” She tried to figure out what kind of insult Yonaga was building toward, but couldn’t.

“Then if you didn’t think it was Mukuro, it probably wasn’t!” Yonaga concluded.

Kirigiri almost growled in frustration. “It’s not that I had a person who simply looked like Ikusaba-san but had a completely different personality. She behaved as I expected at the beginning, then abruptly began acting abnormal . . . Why are you smiling so much?”

She didn’t think Yonaga could smile any wider, but she did.

Yonaga reached over and patted her shoulder. “You must be very confused. When I first woke up and saw Atua, I was, too. The last thing I could remember was dying. I screamed, I tried to hit Him, I even tried to run. But Atua was very patient. He didn’t get mad. So, you don’t need to worry so much either. They are all patient. They know us silly humans are stupid and slow.”

“If that’s so, then why do they bother with us?” She glared at Yonaga. “Why bother recruiting you?”

“Why do we ask dogs to fetch balls when we threw them away in the first place?” Yonaga asked. “If we were dogs, I bet we’d find humans very confusing.”

Kirigiri didn’t point out how demeaning the comparison to a dog was. Knowing Yonaga, she would simply make another comparison that was even worse. She said instead, “What does Atua look like?”

“Hm? You’re asking that? But you’ve seen Him before,” Yonaga said.

She had? Where? She couldn’t recall anything in the nave that would represent a god, although this church wasn’t for Atua anyways. . . Which meant that if an image of Atua existed somewhere, it would be in Yonaga’s room, which she had seen. Now that she thought back, there had been something in there. Something large and . . .

The implication of her thoughts suddenly hit her.

“You know I was in your room,” she said hoarsely.

“Yep. Nagito told me,” Yonaga said casually.

Komaeda knew. Komaeda knew she had been in Yonaga’s room. That meant. . . that meant Komaeda must have known she had been in _his_ room as well. If she remembered correctly, however, Komaeda had been preaching at the time. How could he have figured it out?

“How did he know?” she asked.

Yonaga said, “He saw you.”

“. . . That’s impossible. Komaeda-kun was conducting a sermon on the ground floor when that occurred. When could he have gone upstairs to see me?”

Yonaga giggled. She hopped off the bed and with slow, big steps, walked backwards. “No wonder you’re always so confused. You never ask the right questions.”

Kirigiri said nothing.

Yonaga suddenly swooped back in. Her lips were right next to Kirigiri’s ear, making sure the detective heard every word.

“He has more than two eyes, you know.”

What did that . . .? That thought died as she turned her head and met Yonaga’s eyes. Something dark shone back at her. A smug amusement like someone watching a mouse sniff at the cheese in the mousetrap.

“Yonaga-san?”

Yonaga straightened up. Naegi hovered in the doorway, watching the priestess with confusion and wariness. Yonaga, back to her bubbly self, squealed with delight and ran over.

“Angie’s fine, remember? Did you want time alone? Is that why you’re looking at me like that?” With each sentence, Yonaga tilted her head to the other side, her upper body bending with it. “Nobody minds if you two want to renew your vows, but remember, nothing’s _really_ private here.”

As usual, Naegi went scarlet-red at those implications. “That’s not . . . I didn’t mean . . . That’s not why I was giving you that look! I just didn’t know you were here, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh. Because you only have two eyes, right?” Yonaga winked back at Kirigiri when she said that. Naegi touched his face, as if worried a third eye had replaced his nose. “Oh, I have a divine idea: you can come see my studio!”

“That’s a nice suggestion,” Naegi said, “but Kyoko . . .”

“Come on!” Yonaga gave Naegi a little shove out of the room, and then returned to try and haul Kirigiri out of bed. “Let’s go!”

“Angie!” Naegi marched right back in when he saw Yonaga manhandling her. “She’s injured. She can’t go walking around . . .”

“It’s fine.” Kirigiri said. She pried Yonaga’s hand off her and then carefully rose. “The body heals faster when you push it.”

Naegi hovered as she made her way up the stairs. It was a little annoying. He stayed on the step below her, eyes trained on her back, prepared to spring forward if she fell, no matter that she would take him down with her. It did hurt more than last time, but she decided to take that as a sign of healing.

With a small ‘Tada!’ Yonaga shoved open the door to her room. Kirigiri had been here before, but Yonaga’s room was so loud and held so many details that it still felt like the first time. She couldn’t tell whether any of the paintings on the wall were new, or what most of them were, for that matter. But, when looked at the back of the room, there was one thing there she remembered from last time.

She shielded her eyes. Like before, a pulsing headache knocked at her forehead. The twisted shadow of the statue fell across the ground; even that was difficult to look at. Yonaga, humming, skipped ahead, unaffected by the statue’s aura.

“Kyoko, are you okay?” Naegi asked.

“It’s that statue,” she hissed. “It hurts to look at it.”

Naturally, Naegi immediately checked out the statue. He stiffened just as she had, recoiling. But he didn’t shy away from the sight. Instead, he turned toward the statue to view it better.

“I. . . I’ve seen this before,” he murmured. “Not this one exactly, but something similar. It was . . . I was with Komaeda-kun. . .”

“He’s very sorry about that,” Yonaga said casually, as if they were discussing the weather.

“Angie, what is it?” Naegi asked.

“It’s the Great Atua, of course!” Yonaga said. “Isn’t it just divine?”

“You carved a statue of your god,” Kirigiri said, staring at the very tip of the shadow. “It’s rather arrogant to assume you know what he looks like.”

“I didn’t really carve it,” Yonaga said. “Atua did, but He used me as His vessel.”

“You mean he was controlling your hands?” Naegi asked. His back arched slightly like a cat about to pounce, as if he feared Atua was going to possess Yonaga right there.

“Yep. Humans can only see in three dimensions, so there’s no way I could make this by myself.”

“What’s the point?” Naegi asked. “You’ve implying that his statue is built in more than three dimensions, but if you can’t see beyond three dimensions, then why did he bother to make this and put it in your room?”

“Practice,” Yonaga said. “Humans can’t naturally see beyond three dimensions, but if you keep exposing them to it, then their brains begin to cope. Atua says that if keep practicing with this, then one day I may be able to see His true form. If I tried to see it now, my brain might explode.

Yonaga seemed like she was going to continue talking, but she abruptly went quiet, stiffening like a hound that had picked up a fox’s scent. She took large steps that almost seemed unsteady toward her window, where she folded her arms on top of the windowsill and rested her chin on them. Her pale locks glowed faintly in the light as a breeze ruffled them.

“The stars are out early today,” Yonaga said.

Ah, stars. She could look at stars without getting a headache. That’s why she joined Yonaga at the window, not like Naegi and his curiosity. The sun was still in the sky, although not too high, but it was that strange time of day where both the moon and the brightest of stars joined it. Yonaga pointed at a blank spot between two stars.

“Do you see that?” she asked.

“There’s nothing there,” Kirigiri said flatly.

“Exactly,” Yonaga said. She pointed again. “There used to be a star there. That’s the star Atua drained so He could save me. It’s a little sad to think about; there’s proof of Atua’s existence right in front of everyone and no one’s noticed.”

“I don’t understand how any of that reviving stuff works, but I’m glad he brought you back,” Naegi said. Kirigiri looked sharply at him. He rolled his eyes: he thought she was overreacting. “It’s sad to think we might not have met.”

“You’re very kind, Makoto,” Yonaga said. “Maybe you should ask Atua how to make your own sanctuary.”

Naegi rubbed the back of his neck. “Err, no thanks. Being worshipped sounds really awkward.”

It was a sweet moment. That it happened between Naegi and one of _them_ made it disgusting. Kirigiri scoffed and turned away . . . and immediately shielded her eyes when they landed on that damn statue again.

“Makoto, can we leave? It’s not pleasant being here when I can’t even open my eyes.”

To her credit, Yonaga didn’t seem offended and bid them farewell. Naegi’s hand rested on Kirigiri’s back as he guided her out of the room. When she heard the door shut behind him, the headache melted away. That had been unpleasant. She still had no idea what the statue looked like, although going by its shadow, it was ugly.

That said, it had also raised some serious questions.

“Makoto,” she asked quietly, “how were you able to look at it.”

“Hmm? I . . . I don’t know. It didn’t bother me that much.”

“You said you saw something like this before when you were with Komaeda. Was that in the confessional?”

His hand tightened on her back. He exhaled sharply. It was enough of a confirmation. Had it been a few days ago, she would have wanted to return to the confessional, to look for evidence of this so-called mind-breaking sight. Now though? She felt like a claustrophobic kid volunteered for a magician’s locked-box trick. What Yonaga suggested wasn’t possible. It _wasn’t_. Yet so much she had seen was impossible, so much she had _lived_ through was impossible. . .

What was happening to her?

“How long do you think the storm’s going to last?” Naegi asked.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Oh, hello, you two. How are you feeling, Kirigiri-san?”

Komaeda. As always, his timing was impeccable. It was like he stalked her just waiting for the worst time to appear.

“I’m glad to see you are recovering nicely,” Komaeda continued. “It’s unfortunate that your ankle had to be sprained. If you don’t mind, I was wondering why you two were out there. It was an awful time to explore a swamp.”

“Our job doesn’t stop just because it’s raining,” Naegi said firmly. “It’s nothing you have to worry about.”

Had Komaeda always been this . . . abnormal? He wasn’t doing anything, yet Kirigiri couldn’t help but think something was just off about him. Komaeda was still, but too still, as he listened; he stood out like a poorly rendered image in an otherwise photorealistic scene. And he had those _eyes_. Those eyes that never seemed to change or display emotion, and stripped the skin from your bones so he could see what lay within.

“You should be careful,” Komaeda said. “That’s the same forest Tanaka prowls, and he can be quite dangerous. You remember that, right?”

He looked straight at her when he said that. She remembered the last time Komaeda had brought up Tanaka, when he accused her of sending Naegi out alone to look for him. (When Naegi _lied_ to her.)

“I just want you two to stay safe,” Komaeda said.

“The police department knows about his escape. If we see him, he’ll be arrested,” Naegi lied.

Komaeda made a sound under his breath. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it sounded like he was humouring them, like a father listening to his son’s ‘genius’ plan.

“Naegi-kun?” Komaeda said just as they turned away and she thought they were free of him. “Don’t be so sure that Tanaka is your ally.”

She almost rolled her eyes. What nonsense was he speaking now?

“Let’s go.” Naegi’s voice was clipped. His tug on her wrist was gentle, yet firm. Komaeda watched them with that unchanging stare, smiling.

Once they were alone in the bedroom, Naegi took to pacing across the small space in front of the door. He had his phone out and even though there was no signal, he was still trying to call people. Each failed call made his steps a little bit quicker, a little more aggressive. By the last call, he had pulled at his hair and seemed ready to dash the phone against the wall.

“Do you really think it’s still raining out there?” Naegi asked.

“Considering the signal’s still dead, yes.”

“. . . I’m going to go look,” he said, stomping off.

She didn’t like seeing him leave like this, but she didn’t protest. Her ankle was throbbing, but it was a lingering background pain rather than a fierce one. She sat and massaged it.

“Naegi-kun’s rather on edge, isn’t he? Is he usually like this?”

Good god, could Komaeda _stop following her_?

“Don’t give me that look,” Komaeda chided. “I’m only curious. I want to know how deep this goes – helps me avoid another incident like the one in the confessional.”

“He said while he was in there, he saw something like that statue in Yonaga-san’s room,” she pressed. She both didn’t want to know and needed to know what Naegi was talking about.

“He does remember? Ah, perfect! Thanks for letting me know. I know it could have gone better, but at least he’s not repressing it.”

She felt queasy. There was a distinct, sickening implication that she had somehow sold Naegi out. How though? What did Komaeda want from them?

“Why would he repress that?” she asked.

“To my understanding, it’s how minds cope with sights they aren’t ready to see. Though I’ve heard that if they don’t, humans tend to go insane. Or it messes with the physiology of their brains and they perish. Not that you need to worry about Naegi-kun kicking the bucket!” Komaeda added quickly, holding up his hands as if trying to calm down an aggressive guard dog. “It’s very heartening to know he’s beyond those coping strategies.”

She couldn’t believe this. She couldn’t believe the callousness, the reason for Naegi’s pain that Komaeda was implying. Quietly, about to burst, she hissed, “Are you suggesting that what he saw in there was a test by you? To check whether _he would go insane?_ ”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It wasn’t a test. And Naegi-kun wouldn’t have gone insane,” Komaeda said instantly.

“You just listed insanity as a possible outcome!”

Komaeda stared at her. He seemed puzzled. His gaze swept her over from head to toe and then, something visibly clicked in his mind. He nodded slowly to himself, sucking in his lower lip.

“I’m sorry,” he said unexpectedly. “I must be making you very confused. I forgot your situation and mixed you up with . . . Ah, there’s been too many of you. I finally get used to one and then they’re gone and I’m onto the next. . .”

“. . .What the hell are you talking about?”

Komaeda smiled at her. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

There was one exit in the room and Komaeda was guarding it. Even if he hadn’t been, her ankle was sprained and she couldn’t run – _no!_ She wasn’t going to run. Some fear was healthy, and she acknowledged that was definitely fear chewing at her intestines, but she wasn’t _afraid_ of him.

Yet even as she told herself that, even as she told herself that she couldn’t show fear, there was no mistaking that shudder in her exhale. Komaeda’s smile sharpened, showed teeth, and she abruptly remembered Kamukura and his teeth – and his _fangs_.

“Don’t worry, Kirigiri-san,” Komaeda said. “Just keep it up. You’ve done great, so far.”

He gave her a little wave. Then the door was swinging shut behind him, and she was alone. Naegi returned shortly after, grumbling about how the weather hadn’t changed.

She whispered. “Makoto? Give me your hand.”

He did so, frowning. She grabbed it and squeezed.

“Kyoko?”

“Just . . . just stay with me for now. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Komaeda is definitely evil, but Naegi is a little more sympathetic toward some of the others.


	35. Chapter 35

Her fingers tapped against her book’s cover. Naegi had been gone for a while. It wasn’t that she hadn’t known he was going for a walk, but in the wake of everything that had happened, she couldn’t like it. Whenever she looked up and Naegi wasn’t there, her stomach fluttered with anxiety.

Eight minutes later, he returned. A light sheen of sweat covered his forehead. His breathing slightly heavy, he collapsed into a chair with a huff, sliding down its back until his feet found purchase on the floor.

“What happened?” she asked, taking note of his exertion and assuming the worst.

He groaned. “Dusting.”

“. . . Come again?”

“I was helping Kamukura-kun clean a few of the rooms. Do you know how much work it must be to maintain a place this big?” He groaned again and slumped in the chair.

“Let me make sure I’m imagining this correctly. I’m assuming Kamukura approached you because I know you wouldn’t initiate this. He asked you to go with him and . . . Who else was there?”

“Enoshima-san ‘helped,’ too,” he said, making little bunny ears with his fingers on the word ‘helped.’ “She just sat in a chair and told me where I missed.”

“I see. So, you accepted and decided to clean the place with Kamukura and Enoshima, likely in the less-used rooms. And this took you over an hour.”

“That seems right.”

Her voice steadily rose. “You decided to go with Kamukura to an isolated room, where you were outnumbered two to one by suspects in a murder case, without informing me beforehand _and_ while knowing that no one else knows of our situation!”

“It sounds really bad when you say it like that,” Naegi said. “But it’s not like it was Komaeda; it was Kamukura-kun.”

It felt like she was beating her head against a brick wall. “Yes. Kamukura Izuru. Also a prime suspect in our investigation!”

He looked like he stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “Come on, we both know Kamukura-kun isn’t the murderer.”

His eyes widened, but it was too late; he had said it. He quailed under her glare, knowing he had broken the cardinal rule of the Kirigiris: Everyone was a suspect.

“If it wasn’t for this damn storm, you would be in a cab on your way home!” _So would she_ , she thought, but saying that would defeat the purpose of her statement. “There’s no proof someone else committed the murder, and there’s no proof he didn’t. He _is_ a suspect.”

“That isn’t what I meant!” Naegi protested. “I’m sorry, it came out wrong.”

“And just what did you mean?” she demanded.

He took a deep breath. “They’re not all as bad as you think they are,” he finally told her. “We can both agree Komaeda is a prick, but Kamukura-kun’s a cool guy. Or consider Yonaga-san. She’s obsessed with Atua, but you know, she doesn’t really seem to care that we don’t believe in him, and that’s a lot more tolerance than I expected.”

“I don’t believe this,” she said quietly. “You’ve been hanging out with them whenever you leave this room, haven’t you?”

“Uh, I mean if I see Kamukura-kun or Yonaga-san when I’m out, then of course we talk . . .”

Why hadn’t she seen this coming? Right, because she assumed Naegi had enough common sense not to trust them. But her assumption had been wrong and in making it, she had forgot the first rule of Naegi-Wrangling: if set loose, Naegi’s first move would be to seek someone else. And as she knew from personal experience, merely allowing him to remain in your presence was enough for him to consider you a good friend.

“Answer me this,” she said, embracing herself for the worst. “Do you consider them your friends?”

He hesitated. He _hesitated._ He might as well hop around and wave a white flat while he was at it.

 “. . . What happened to you? Come here. Yes, here.” She patted the spot on the bed next to her. Naegi listened, albeit cautiously, and she immediately grabbed his wrist and pinned him there. His forehead wasn’t hot; he didn’t seem sick. She scanned his face, but she couldn’t see anything _wrong_.

“Kyoko!” He squirmed under her examination like a child forced to take a bath.

“Do you remember when you first got here? You were so frightened that you tried to drag me through a swamp.”

“Yes, and I’m sorry,” he said, annoyed. It annoyed her, too, because _that wasn’t the point_. “But it wasn’t because of Kamukura-kun. I’ve never feared him.”

“I can’t believe you can sit here, look me in the eye, and tell me there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I didn’t say that,” Naegi said quickly. “For example, I also say Komaeda can’t be trusted. Ever since I met him, I . . .  God, I can’t look at him sometimes. It still freaks me out whenever I do, and I feel like I’m forgetting something really important . . .”

“You did.” He looked up, curious, and with a sneer, she said, “You forgot that Kamukura could have been leading you into a trap set by Komaeda.”

“He wouldn’t do that,” Naegi muttered.

She didn’t know if this was Naegi she was listening to, or someone who merely looked like him. She grabbed his chin _tight_ , making him squeak, and yanked it toward her.

“Do you even know what he really is?” she hissed.

“Uh, a member of Hope’s Peak?” He tried to pull himself loose, but she tightened her grasp.

“He’s a monster! I saw him. He has teeth. . . fangs!” she corrected quickly, aware her mind was starting to spin and throw out random words. “I watched him eat an animal alive.”

She could tell by looking that Naegi wasn’t buying it.

“Why do you trust him?” she said. “What could he possibly have done to earn your trust?”

“It’s . . . It’s instinct,” he said with a shrug, and she knew he was taking a stab at her own detective intuition. “He feels safe and familiar. He’s always felt like that.”

“I’ll give you my theory,” she said. “I think you’re latching onto him because he feels so _normal_ compared to everyone else. The weirdness of the others and overt danger of those like Komaeda have skewed your radar, which is why Kamukura’s normality strikes you as safe.”

“I know I’m not making sense, but I can’t explain it. I just know.”

“Do you?” she said with a cold smile. “Do you have proof to back up your claims? Because I do.”

“What do you mean?” he asked warily.

“I’ll show you,” she said. She grabbed the headboard, about to stand –

_Knock, knock._

They stared at the door. Even Naegi, she was happy to report, had his hackles up.

“Yoo-hoo! I brought lunch!”

Just as smoothly they had risen, now his hackles fell. Yonaga didn’t give Kirigiri time to tell her to go away before she nudged open the door and skipped inside. She put the two trays on the nightstand, and then looked at them curiously.

“Hmm? Why do you look so red and embarrassed?” Yonaga asked. “Were you having alone time? Is that why you didn’t come down for lunch.”

“We were speaking,” Kirigiri said. “Privately.”

“That’s so silly, Kyoko! Don’t you remember what I told you? Oh, Makoto, not so fast!” Yonaga put a hand on Naegi’s jaw as he reached for his tray, and snapped it shut. “I have to pray first.”

“Oh, okay.” Naegi withdrew. He licked his lips as he stared at his steaming lunch.

Yonaga stood there, eyes closed, hands raised to shoulder-height and palms facing upwards. Kirigiri assumed she was praying inside her head, until Yonaga opened one eye and said, “You have to close your eyes.”

“Angie, Kyoko and I aren’t religious,” Naegi said.

“You still have to close your eyes cause staring is rude,” she said with a poisonous sweetness. So much for tolerance.

Naegi did close his eyes, doing so while he lay back against the bed as if about to sleep.

“Kyoko,” Yonaga called, “you need to close your eyes, too!”

“That’s not necessary.”

Yonaga cocked her head to one side, as if she truly couldn’t understand why someone would deny her request. She still wore that carefree smile, but that familiar shark-like coldness infiltrated her guise once more.

“Atua’s such a forgiving god,” Yonaga said, making it sound as though they were discussing the weather. “He and Komaeda-kun let you stay here even though you don’t believe, and you keep trying to upset them. Sometimes, even I’m surprised at how patient they are!”

“Angie,” Naegi sighed with his eyes still closed, “Kyoko’s not going to hell. Please don’t suggest otherwise.”

“I didn’t say anyone was going to hell!” Yonaga declared, spinning a paintbrush between her fingers.

Wearily, Naegi said, “Kyoko, can you do it so we can eat?”

No food without praying? Sounded like a threat to her. Kirigiri closed her eyes and put her hands together . . . until Yonaga started speaking. Then, she opened them a crack, watching. Yonaga didn’t notice; she had her face turned toward the ceiling, her eyes closed and expression relaxed in devoutness. She reached toward the sky as if to embrace the entity she believed existed up there.

“To our Great Protector, Atua!” Yonaga said, her voice echoing in the small room. “We give You thanks. We thank You for watching over us and guiding us. We thank You for your patience and mercy, especially for poor, confused Kyoko! I ask that You continue to guide us and ensure that everyone fulfills their destiny. Please bless this divine meal . . .”

As Yonaga spoke that last sentence, she stepped slowly toward those open trays. Kirigiri prepared to pounce, but Yonaga merely stopped in front of them. She didn’t speak, she didn’t move. Kirigiri assumed the prayer was over, until Yonaga turned her head and focused on her with such certainty, that it was obvious the priestess knew she was peeking.

“Uh, is it over?” Naegi whispered. Presumably, he meant for her to hear and not Yonaga.

Yonaga wrenched her gaze away. “Yep. You can eat now.”

Naegi immediately grabbed his tray. “I’m surprised you didn’t thank him for the food.”

Yonaga shrugged. “Atua didn’t get this for me. Besides, he thinks humans eat way too much food. He doesn’t understand why we have to eat so much to survive.”

Kirigiri couldn’t resist saying, “Strange. Aren’t gods omniscient?”

“Do you know the name of all the cells in your body or how they work?” Yonaga asked. “It’s the same. They _could_ understand if they wanted to, but they want to do more interesting things. That’s why Atua is so amazing. When He saw our primitive, barbaric ways, He didn’t turn away. Atua saw something special in each one of us.”

Suddenly, the priestess surged forward. She grabbed Kirigiri’s hand, and it took all her self-control to stop herself from reacting and striking Yonaga.

“Atua adores humanity,” Yonaga said. “That’s why He’s reached out to us, so that we can accept Him into our hearts and be saved. Atua is a gentle god who watches over all that love Him.”

“I’ll pass,” Kirigiri said. “I seem to be doing fine without him.”

“Okay,” Yonaga said. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“Atua doesn’t send people to hell, does he?” Naegi asked, struggling to decide whether Yonaga was suggesting that again.

“He doesn’t need to do that. If they aren’t saved, they’ll be stuck on earth and eventually, that would be hell.”

“I have a question,” Kirigiri said and for a moment, Naegi looked pleased that she appeared to be offering something other than scorn. “Why did he choose you?”

“I don’t know” She tapped her chin in thought. “But He’s been watching me ever since I was a baby, so I guess He saw something special in my future.”

“I have another question for you.” She felt a little mischievous, sneaky as she asked, “What’s on the fifth floor?”

The floor she had never heard discussed. The floor she had yet to venture to. She didn’t plan to – getting up one flight of stairs with her ankle was difficult enough, but if she was going to leave as soon as she could and never come back, she should ask.

“It’s not that exciting,” Yonaga said. “They store things there. Sometimes, that’s where visitors stay.”

“We’re not staying there, and neither are you and Shinguji-kun.”

“That’s because you two don’t need to, but this room’s too small for some visitors.”

“And you and Shinguji-kun?” Kirigiri asked, eyebrows raised.

Suddenly, as if changing the topic, Yonaga said, “Atua just hit me with a divine memory. The parlor’s there, too!”

“Parlor? Like an ice cream parlor?” Naegi joked.

“No, no! Like for these!”

Yonaga dropped her jacket and – did she have to throw it to the side like she was stripping? Both she and Naegi covered their eyes, only remembering afterwards that Yonaga had a bikini on underneath. Not that it was much better than being naked. Yonaga didn’t care though. All she cared about was turning her body to show off the tattoos, one on her thigh, one on her upper arm. The purpose of the tattoo on the thigh was easily guessed, as it was the same symbol on the cover of Hope’s Peak scripture. The meaning of the tattoo on her arm was unknown and was simple: a circle with four lines crossing vertically through it.

“This is Atua’s mark,” she said, pointing to the one on her arm. “It marks me as his ward and as one of his followers.”

Naegi was much more curious about the tattoos than she, tracing the circle of Atua’s mark with his finger. Something like jealously boiled in her stomach.

“You have this because you worship Atua,” Naegi said. “Did you choose that? Or did they force it on you?”

“Nobody needed to force me,” Yonaga said. “It’s a super divine honor!”

“An honor. Is that what it’s supposed to be? It’s an honour to be branded like cattle?”

“Yep. That way everyone knows I’m telling the truth . . .”

“That’s . . . that’s full of shit! Angie, you could tell us: Komaeda did this, didn’t he?”

Naturally, Kirigiri agreed with him that the tattoos were a form of manipulation. Yet his reaction still surprised her. Naegi usually wasn’t so _aggressive_ with his disapproval. An angry Naegi was one that planted his feet and stood his ground. What he didn’t do was take that extra step forward until he was breathing your air. Her Naegi was someone who barely understood the concept of self-defence for himself, let alone believed in it; he wasn’t a person who would grab a small woman’s wrist hard enough to leave bruises, and yank her around so he could glower at tattoos.

“ _Atua_ gave this to me. It is an honor.” Yonaga made a token effort to free herself, but Naegi didn’t seem to notice. “I couldn’t let Nagito give me _Atua’s_ mark. That would be heresy!”

Ah, there was the fanaticism she’d grown to expect. It seemed to reassure Naegi though, who dropped Yonaga’s arm, acting as though he never grabbed it. But then, his brow furrowed. The idiot almost touched the tattoo on Yonaga’s thigh, even though his girlfriend was watching.

“Angie, what’s this one?” he asked, voice strained.

“Huh?” She twisted to look at her thigh, as if she were unfamiliar with the strange lightning-like tattoo there. “That one’s from Hope’s Peak. It marks me as one of them. Atua’s mark is much more divine!”

“So, everyone in this church bears that mark?” Kirigiri asked. This could potentially be very useful information for the future.

“Only the important ones,” Yonaga said. “They wouldn’t bother marking unimportant, ordinary humans.”

Yes, useful indeed. She would have to keep an eye out for that tattoo from now on.

“Did Atua give you that one, too?” Naegi asked.

“Yes.” Yonaga’s eyes closed as she lost herself in the memory. “Ah, Kyoko, if you ask really nicely, maybe Atua can be the one to give you that tattoo!”

“ _Angie!_ ” Makoto both hissed and snarled, chest heaving like an agitated bull.

Naegi was not an aggressive person. She rarely worried about that kind of reaction from him. This time though, she grabbed his shoulder because everyone about his body language spoke of an animal sizing up its opponent. Technically, they were here illegally. The last thing they needed was an assault charge, as well.

“Relax, it doesn’t hurt,” Yonaga said cheerfully. “Or I guess it might hurt her cuz she’s just a plain human. But I’ll buy you ice-cream afterwards.”

Kirigiri wasn’t insulted this time, only because Yonaga trying to bribe them like children was frankly, hilarious. Naegi seemed to take it much more seriously though, as under her hand, he felt her muscles bunch.

“If I recall, you came her to bring us breakfast,” Kirigiri said pointedly.

“Okay, I’ll leave.” She waved. “Goodbye!”

Just as she had entered, Yonaga skipped out. Naegi lurched a little as she did, as if considering a pursuit.

“Makoto, calm down,” she said, mystified by his behaviour. “It’s all just talk. I shouldn’t have to say this, but I have no intention of getting a tattoo. Even if it didn’t come from them.”

Naegi looked at her silently. It was unnerving.

“Come on,” she said, just so he would stop looking at her like that. “We’ll eat later. I’ll show you the proof I was talking about before.”

She led him out of the room and up the staircase as quickly as she could. Anticipation masked the pain in her ankle, letting her move that much faster. Kamukura’s bedroom door was closed, but she grinned in triumph when the doorknob turned without resistance. She threw open the door and . . .

. . .

Why had she expected any differently?

“What is it?” he asked after a long moment.

She said nothing. She just shut the door. What was the point in telling him there used to be a fish tank there? He wouldn’t believe her anyways.

( _Two hours,_ the air seemed to laugh.)

“Kirigiri-san, what are you doing?” Kamukura asked. He was further down the hall, leaning against the wall, like . . . like he had been waiting for them.

“I. . .” Naegi was immediately up in arms, ready to defend her. Only, he had no idea what to say, and looked to her for help.

“Nothing,” she said dully.

Kamukura pushed himself off the wall and walked toward them. “That’s my room.”

“It is,” she said. She was such a fool. Of course, it would be gone. Of course, it was a trap. Just another reason to make everyone question her decisions and motives.

“I expected better from you,” Kamukura said to Naegi. Naegi sunk a little and adverted his eyes, like a scolded puppy. “I don’t care if Kirigiri-san told you to, you know it’s rude to go into someone else’s room without asking.”

“Sorry,” Naegi mumbled.

She picked up a strange vibe from the conversation, but . . . Why did it matter? Once again, they were ahead of her.

“I’m going back to the bedroom,” she said, barely mustering up the will not to say _our_ bedroom. She trudged, ignoring Naegi’s call. She heard him scrambling to apologize to Kamukura as she shuffled away. As she reached the stairs, Shinguji came around the bend and passed. He stopped to observe once he noticed Kamukura and Naegi.

“It’s a heartening relationship, isn’t it?” Shinguji said to her. “Kamukura-kun makes a wonderful role model for someone like Naegi-kun.”

That finally sparked something within her. Yet when she cried to call for her partner, his name came out as a croak. The second try, as Kamukura walked into his bedroom and Naegi took a step to follow, was stronger.

“I’ll be there in a second,” Naegi said, not looking at her as he did. “He wants to make sure we didn’t touch anything.”

With that, Naegi stepped into the room. The door closed behind him and as it did, it felt like a solid wall had fallen between them. All she could do was stare.

“You should loosen the apron strings.” When she stared at him, Shinguji said, “Am I confusing you? I apologize: I was under the impression that was how the expression went. What I was trying to say is that you needn’t work so hard. Let him enjoy himself.”

With that, Shinguji left her to her own devices. She didn’t have the energy to go up there and demand Naegi to get out _now_. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave, either. She slid down the wall instead, brought her knees up to he chest, and simply waited in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri and Naegi's relationship continues to fracture.


	36. Chapter 36

Naegi gurgled in his sleep. Kirigiri laid awake, staring at the ceiling as he shifted and buried his face in her neck. His hair tickled her skin; his ahoge poked her in the cheek. He stirred for an instant, murmured contently, and then settled back into his deep sleep. She was glad at least one of them was getting rest, because she certainly wasn’t going to. She felt sick, nauseous with worry. She just wanted to _go home._ She’d let Togami dock her pay if that’s what it would take.

At least Naegi was here. Even asleep, even despite their quarrels, his presence was a comfort. She petted him as one would a dog and he stretched into her touch. His hair was as soft as his appearance; she could tell even through the gloves. Her fingers glided down his temple, down his chin and to his neck, where they caught for a split second. She ran her finger over that spot again.

Her glove slid off. She drove the pad of her finger into that spot. Her scars prevented her from getting a feel for the texture there, but her eyes were picking up information. A long indentation ran parallel to his neck’s curve. The skin at its edge seemed like raised and when she pressed her fingers in and spread them, the skin split a little. Her breath caught; it looked like a healed cut from a knife.

She rolled over, anxiety forcing her to check the closed door again. There was no lock – why would the predators block themselves off from the chicken coop? – but after Naegi had dozed off, she’d taken the chair and wedged it under the doorknob. It was a Hollywood tactic, but one that was effective. In the worse case scenario, it might make noise as they dislodged it and wake them.

. . . Not that she expected Naegi to wake. A bit of drool poked out of his mouth. She wiped it away with the bedsheet and stroked him again. If she were a different woman, she would have succumbed to the peace his sleeping form exuded. But she was Kirigiri Kyoko, which meant having Naegi’s sleeping and vulnerable form next to her only put her more on edge, had her checking that door more than necessary.

That’s why she saw it.

Kirigiri had insisted on a bringing a lantern into the bedroom in case she needed to act. It was midway between her and the door, so that the edge of its halo illuminated the door’s crack and half the floor at it’s base. Thus, when the light waned at the door waned, she noticed.

She rose, one hand on Naegi’s shoulder in case she needed to rouse him. It seemed like someone was out there.

As she limped toward the door, something moved on the ground. It was small, akin to a large bug or a mouse. Without really thinking about it, she tried to step on it. Her heel collided with wood. Missed.

But as she thought that, something squirmed under her foot. She pulled her foot back and – where was it? There was nothing there and . . .

But that was just it. There was nothing there.

Yet something was moving.

“Kyoko?”

She glanced back. A moment later, she looked at the floor again, but the moving shadows had disappeared.

“I think I’m going to get a midnight snack,” Naegi said, yawning. “Do you want anything?”

“I’ll come with you,” she said, still staring at the ground.

Naegi was half-asleep as he carelessly left the room, flinging the door open as if there was no possibility of an ambush waiting on the other side. She stuck close to him, holding his hand in case she needed to yank him back, because he didn’t seem very aware of his surroundings. He yawned again, lips drawing back, and in that flash of teeth, she saw Kamukura’s fangs overlaid on his. More of Kamukura’s visage seeped into his, painting his eyes the same luminous red; she nearly tore her hand away.

“Makoto?” she said as they entered the staircase. “On your neck, I noticed a mark. It looks like a cut.”

“Hmm?” He raised a hand to his neck. She guided it until it brushed over the spot she had told him about. “Oh. Wow, I don’t even remember what I fell into this time.”

“It’s very clean,” she said. “It doesn’t look like it’s the result of an accident.”

He said nothing but looked concerned as he rubbed his neck.

“Did someone threaten you?” she asked. ( _ ~~Is that why you wouldn’t believe me?~~_ ~~)~~

“Other than Komaeda’s ‘Ha-ha, look how evil I am’ shtick? No.”

It was the answer she had dreaded, and the answer she had expected. Whatever he may say though, she knew that mark on Naegi’s neck was from Hope’s Peak and whatever its purpose was, it was sinister. What she didn’t know was how long it had been there. She held out hope that it was recent.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked. “Are you the one that cut my neck?”

“I brought you here during this storm. We wouldn’t be trapped here if it wasn’t for me.”

“You couldn’t have known it would be this bad,” Naegi said. “When else have you heard of a storm this bad that lasted for so long?”

His eyes widened as his own words dawned on him. Dawned on them both. Impossible. The weather was a whim of nature. It couldn’t be anything else.

And yet . . .

“I shouldn’t have come back here,” she said, eyes tightly closed. “Togami-kun was right.”

“What do you mean?”

“. . . You don’t know, do you?” She hadn’t thought about it much since she arrived here, but now she did, and she realized she had been _wrong_. Naegi had badgered Togami into taking them off the case, but Togami hadn’t told him he’d done it.

“Kyoko?” His voice was quiet, high-pitched. _Frightened_. It made her heart ache and her ankle throb. It was once in a decade she heard him this afraid, and for one of the very few times in her life, she couldn’t help him.

“Togami-kun took us off the case nearly a week ago.”

“. . . What?”

He no longer sounded frightened. Now he sounded disbelieving, confused, _suspicious_. The tone he used was one he had never directed at her before. His hand slipped away as he stepped back; the hanging distance between them sparked with electricity. Gradually, his emotions faded, leaving him wearing a mask as stoic as hers used to be.

“Kyoko, are you . . .?” He swallowed hard. “Whose side are you really on?”

The accusation was a knife in the chest. It drove all the air out of her lungs, leaving her unable to respond. Naegi interpreted that the worst way.

“Why?” he begged, eyes glistening.

“Makoto, listen to me: Togami-kun’s wrong. I’m not working with them. I’ve never seen them before in my life.” She took a step closer to him. He scooted away, bumping into the wall. “I’m not trying to help them.”

“Then why do you keep doing things like this?” Naegi cried, frantic. His teeth clenched in a painful grimace.

And finally, _finally,_ she admitted the truth to both him and herself:

“I don’t know.”

Before either could say anything, they heard a door open and shut in the staircase.

The two of them waited. Occasionally, a footstep would echo through the spiraling stairs, growing louder. It seemed to be coming from above, from where all the bedrooms were – _god_ , where Komaeda, Kamukura and Enoshima were. Something like a growl spilt out of Naegi’s throat.

The intruder came into view, and she relaxed a bit. Shinguji was admittingly low on her ranked list of threats. Shinguji studied them curiously, a finger on his chin, as if he had walked into a splendid art gallery.

“You are certainly up late,” Shinguji said.

“We wanted something to eat,” Naegi said. His spine was curved and drawn tight, like a bowstring.

Shinguji’s laugh was light and mellow, and that made it creepier. “I see. Please, don’t let my presence stop you.”

He extended a hand, as if ordering them to descend. Naegi was only too happy to obey, positioning himself under her armpit without a word, not hearing the soft footsteps following them.

Naegi didn’t notice Shinguji’s presence until after they entered the kitchen, at which point he whirled around and planted himself right in front of the threshold. Shinguji observed him calmly; with the mask hiding his lower jaw, it was impossible to tell whether he found it amusing.

“I don’t believe either of you know your way around the kitchen,” Shinguji said.

Naegi blinked. “Uh, no? We don’t really.”

“Then allow me.” With that word, Shinguji swooped past the bemused Naegi, who only realized what had happened a moment after. “What it is you seek? Drink? Food?”

“You don't need to babysit,” Naegi said. “We'll figure something out.”

“If you say so. Then go ahead, find what beckons you.”

He sounded amused. Naegi picked up on that and puffed up like an irritated bird. He ripped open a cabinet defiantly, only to immediately be attacked by falling cups. Despite the situation, Kirigiri smiled.

“Why don’t you try here?” she deadpanned, pointing to the fridge.

“What, for more fish?” Naegi said, although he didn’t sound completely opposed to the idea. “Seriously, do you guys eat anything else?”

“We do,” Shinguji said, “however, that is a favourite.”

Right. Fish. Plain and boring. It was fitting somehow. She opened the fridge anyways, hoping for some of that other stuff –

 And reeled back at the lifeless eyes she saw there.

“Kyoko!” Naegi rushed forward, still prepared to defend her despite everything. At least until he saw what had spooked her. He laughed nervously. “Oh, that would have scared me too, if I wasn’t expecting it. Is that what we’ve been eating? I didn’t think it would be so ugly.”

“Indeed, it is,” Shinguji said.

“Well, at least they taste alright. Uh, Kyoko, you okay?”

Kirigiri shook her head, forcing herself to snap out her daze. This wasn’t the first time she had seen these slippery, eel-like fish; once again, the memory of Kamukura biting into the neck, the sound of him snapping its spine, played through her head. That dream she had – _no_ , not a dream. Or was it? She didn’t know what she could believe anymore.

“Do you have anything else?” Naegi said when Kirigiri failed to answer.

Shinguji gave them a pitying sigh. “Sit down. I will prepare a salad.”

“That sounds nice. Right, Kyoko? Doesn’t a salad sound refreshing?”

He was treating her like a kid. She couldn’t blame him, not after she’d frozen up after seeing _a fish_. She couldn’t even tear her eyes away by herself, and needed him to physically yank on her.

“I’m alright,” she said, more out of habit than truth. “You can sit down. I’ll get us something to drink.”

“You sure?” He eyed her ankle.

“I can still walk . . . Just not very well.”

She hoped he caved because he knew he wouldn’t win the argument, and not because of any lingering suspicion from their earlier, unfinished conversation. It felt nice, she reflected, as water filled up the glass, to be able to do something for him. To feel useful again. Shinguji was chopping vegetables next to her, and the rapid movement of the knife attracted her attention. (He seemed awfully good with them.)

“May I help you?” Shinguji said.

“No.”

“You can sit down,” Shinguji said, tipping the knife toward the table Naegi was at. “I don’t require assistance.”

They stared at each other.

“You would only get in the way,” Shinguji said finally, the knife still on the cutting board.

She did retreat to the table Naegi was at, but she kept a careful eye on Shinguji’s back. He didn’t seem to do anything suspicious; the only time he moved away from the cutting board was when he brought the salads to them.

“You’re not having any?” Naegi asked as Shinguji handed them each a bowl.

“I have no need for it,” he said. “Please, enjoy.”

Shinguji may be low on her list of threats, but that didn’t mean she trusted him. Arms crossed, she glared at him as he waited for them to eat . . . and Naegi was already chowing down. Honestly, what was he thinking?

“Makoto!” she hissed, elbowing him. He grumbled and tucked his arm around his bowl, shuffling it out of her reach.

“What a hungry little fellow,” Shinguji remarked.

. . .What did that mean? She watched him, watched that pleasant manner. This felt wrong. _Pleasantry_ wasn’t something that came without a price from _them_.

“Don’t touch that!” she snapped at Naegi, whipping the back of his wrist with her hand. He whined in protest, but she stole the bowl away anyways.

“Kirigiri-san?” Shinguji questioned.

“You can eat, but _I_ am going to prepare the food,” Kirigiri ordered Naegi. She grabbed both of their bowls and headed for the nearest trash can.

Oddly, Shinguji didn’t seem perturbed. He made a soft noise of understanding, as if Kirigiri had answered a long-held question. He trailed after her, saying, “Your protective instincts are exceptionally well-developed. I understand: that is why he chose to kennel you.”

She slowly lowered the bowls onto the counter. “What does that mean?”

“It means you are overprotective to the point of counterproductivity,” Shinguji explained.

She wasn’t blind to the insinuation. Nor had she failed to notice that this was not the first time she had been referred to with terms that would befit a dog. It was insulting, but not that shocking, given the arrogance of those at Hope’s Peak. That said, something about this attitude seemed off. Hadn’t the others waxed about how Komaeda seemed to favour her? If Komaeda was in charge, shouldn’t that mean the others should naturally hold a positive bias toward her as well? Why? Why didn’t have a consensus?

(At the end of the day, everything came down to the same question, didn’t it: What did they want from her?)

She replayed Shinguji’s words in her mind.

“Makoto, I left my purse in the bedroom. Can you get it?”

Naegi took a few steps toward the door. Unfortunately –usually she’d be happy about this – he wasn’t stupid. In the time it took him to take a few steps, he realized that firstly, she didn’t have anything in her purse that she needed and secondly, obeying would leave her alone with Shinguji. Although she doubted Naegi loathed him the way he loathed Komaeda, Naegi didn’t trust him like he did Kamukura and Yonaga.

“Makoto, go,” she said firmly. “It’s fine.”

And of course, Naegi, in his stubbornness, became even more reluctant to leave.

Shinguji looked from Naegi to her. “You two are quite attached to each other.”

She exhaled. “Makoto.”

Naegi asked, “What do you want to talk to him about?”

She hesitated. Was Naegi asking that because he didn’t trust Shinguji, or because he didn’t trust _her_?

It was time to break out her ultimate weapon. She looked Naegi in the eye, lowered her voice and said, “Makoto, _please_.”

That broke him as usual. There was a bonus, too: it meant that no matter how frail and damaged their bond may be, he still trusted her. He gave Shinguji a glare that couldn’t be mistaken as anything but ‘I’m watching you,’ and then slunk off.

“Why did you send him away?” Shinguji asked.

“Because I’m hoping if he’s not here, you’ll give me a straight answer.” With her ankle swollen and unable to support her full weight, it wasn’t easy to her to reach her usual levels of intimidation. She did her best, however. “What do you want from him?”

“Kirigiri-san, I believe you misunderstand us.”

“Then please tell me how protecting Makoto could possibly be _counterproductive?_ ”

Shinguji said, “You are a Kirigiri. Your duty to that bloodline must be your priority.”

That . . . Was he serious? Was that how people thought of her?

“Listen closely.” She tried to stalk forward but ended up doing a weird hobble instead. “If you think for one second that I value solving this case over his safety, that I would even _consider_ caring about some dead woman more than him, then you know _nothing_ about me.”

“No one is questioning your devotion to that task,” Shinguji said. “Is that what you fear? No, we all understand how fiercely that instinct rushes through your veins. Allow us to put your worries at ease: no one in this building has any desire to harm him. We wish you two only the best.”

“And just what is the best?”

“A good question. You must have listened to Angie.” Shinguji turned his cap a little, and its shadow fell over his eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that question, however.”

She growled. “Whatever game you people are trying to play with me ends with me. Touch Makoto and I’ll show you how much I can bend the law.”

His eyes twinkled. “I have no doubt that if I were to harm him, you would strike with all the fury of an avenging angel. But that is the point, is it not?”

“Can’t you give me a straight answer for once?” She didn’t mean to say that. She couldn’t help it. All that frustration inside her had boiled over and dripped onto the floor.

“Very well. Kirigiri Kyoko, we are not your enemy.”

Goosebumps erupted over her arms. Shinguji tipped his head at her, a motion that eerily reminded her of Komaeda. Slowly, the man walked away, leaving Kirigiri feeling even worse than when she had confronted him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Someone comes looking for our absent detective.


	37. Chapter 37

In her dreams, she lay at home where she would wake wrapped in the bedsheets Naegi’s parents had insisted on buying them; in a house whose smell and sounds were familiar. The morning sunlight that poured through her window was pure and not hampered by angry clouds. She yawned, opened her eyes and when Naegi wasn’t next to her, that merely meant there would be coffee waiting for her downstairs.

But then consciousness caught up with her and she remembered enough to realize that was a dream – she remembered enough to be afraid. She told herself it was nothing. Naegi was getting breakfast or, as much as she hated to admit it, hanging out with Yonaga or Kamukura. She told herself that, but as the minutes passed, she couldn’t wait anymore. She leapt out of bed –

She gasped as hot pain ran up her shin and she wobbled. A couple of days ago, she surely would have been on her knees, but the days had done her well. Although her ankle was throbbing again and tender, she could stagger to the door without much delay.

“Makoto?” She looked up and down the hall, finding it empty. The bathroom. She hadn’t considered that. Yet when she tested the bathroom door, it opened for her.

“What’s got your panties in a knot?”

Enoshima. Kirigiri wheeled around, but not before regaining control over her emotions. She told Enoshima, “I am looking for Makoto.”

“Hmm, Makoto? Short little guy who’s too tense and has an antenna sticking out of his head? Yeah, he’s with Izuru.”

She scowled. “Was that your idea?”

Enoshima shrugged. “It’s nice to see the kids get along, right?”

. . . Goddammit! She didn’t trust Kamukura and she certainly didn’t trust _Enoshima._ On reflex, she checked her phone, even though she knew Naegi couldn’t have texted her because the goddamn signal . . .

Was strong.

Enoshima waved as Kirigiri staggered off, and that must have meant she didn’t know what Kirigiri did. Kirigiri punched in the number and fought the urge to nibble on her nails as the dial tone rang. _And someone picked up_.

By the time she collected herself enough to speak properly, the taxi company was on the verge of hanging up. She spoke just in time, feeling detached from her body as she arranged for a cab to retrieve them. She hung up with that same sense of unreal detachment. They were finally going home.

She returned to the bedroom, packed hers and Naegi’s belongings, and then brought the bags downstairs. She dropped them at the bottom of the staircase as her gaze drifted across the calm, empty church. Her eyes settled on the door to the garden. She had to check. She had to be sure this was real.

Sunlight did not greet her when she opened that door, but that was okay because it wasn’t raining. Water squelched out of the ground where her weight settled, but she ignored it. She limped to the gate and looked at the misty trees.

“Kirigiri.”

That wasn’t Naegi. But it wasn’t anyone from the church either. She looked left. Standing there at the corner of the garden wall, locking eyes with her, was someone she had never expected to see here:

Owada Mondo.

“What are you doing?” she asked, not bothering with a greeting.

“Looking for you.” There was no emotion or inflection in his voice. That was unusual coming from the normally loud and hot-tempered officer. “Thought I’d find you here when you didn’t come home. Where’s Naegi?”

“Not here.” Normally, she would be upset that Owada hadn’t come across her missing boyfriend either; in this situation, however, she was relieved. Kirigiri had encountered dangerous people before; she worked among dangerous people like Oogami Sakura and . . . Owada Mondo. She had learned that there were certain tells when those people were prepared to get _really_ dangerous.

Owada was displaying all of those tells.

“Good,” Owada said. “This is about you and me anyways. I thought I was being stupid at first when I couldn’t find the fucking book in your house, then I figured out that if I were covering up a murder, I’d keep the evidence on me, too.”

“You were in my house?” she said sharply. “Do you realize that’s breaking and entering?”

“So, what? It’s against the law. Is that your fucking problem? Well, y’know what else is against the law: being a shitty detective and hiding evidence of a murder!” He stepped forward. He seemed to move softly, yet she felt the vibration of his footfall through the ground. “You should rot in prison like the rest of those bastards.”

A growl seeped into his words. She wasn’t going to be able to reason with him – not about this. This had festered for too long, had grown roots that hooked into too many parts of his brain. Normally, she would be moderately concerned; Owada was aggressive and strong, but her brains and training exceeded his. However, fighting someone like Owada required speed and steady footing, categories in which her ankle crippled her. And Owada had already locked onto her like a cat stalking a bird.

“Owada-kun,” she tried to speak calmly yet also inject authority into her voice, “this is going too far.”

Owada stopped moving. His shoulders shook. He laughed – tried to laugh – but what left his mouth was more of a barking cough. “They murdered one of my best friends. How the fuck am I the one going too far?”

She sized up the distances: even though she was closer to the door back inside, Owada would undoubtedly hop the wall if she tried to run.

“Naegi in there?” Hearing Naegi’s name immediately made her head snap around. “Is that why you’re staring at that fucking church?”

She said nothing.

“He doesn’t need to get involved,” Owada muttered to himself. “Fucker’s too small. Get himself killed too . . . Kirigiri, you ain’t gonna be happy if Naegi walks in on us, huh? Let’s go out back where he can’t see us.”

 _Into the woods where nobody can see us_ , was what she heard.

Owada wasn’t armed, but in her current state, he may have well been. She raised her arms in surrender, taking slow, careful steps into the forest, trying not to betray how big of an advantage he had over her. The ground squelched under their boots, as if sucking them in. The great haunting spectres of wind-battered trees blocked out the light and surrounded them.

“So, Kirigiri,” there was a sneer in Owada’s voice that suggested he was mocking Togami, “got anything to report?”

“No, but I do have a question. What does Ishimaru-kun think of your conduct?”

“Don’t -! Fuck! You bitch! He ain’t getting involved with this shit!” A fleck of spit danced at the corner of his lip.

Her intention had been to shame him, to hope that a reminder of his straight-laced Bro would shake him back to his senses. Instead, Owada reacted as if she had suggested taking a cleaver to his neck.

“Is that why you brought Naegi here?” Owada demanded. “To burn ‘im at the stake with those crazy bastards?”

Anger would not help her here. Owada was nuts; she couldn’t take what he said seriously.

“Owada-kun, what do you want?”

“You know exactly what I want.”

Yes, she did. It was too dangerous to give it to him though, but she didn’t know how to fend him off until. . .

“You want this book?” She reached into her purse and pulled out her detective notebook instead. She tilted the cover away from him, ensuring he couldn’t read it. “Very well. Fetch.”

Her ankle was weak, but not her arms. She reached over her head, and then flung her notepad as far as she could. A shout, and then Owada was gone, having pursued the false lead. She turned back toward the church and moved as fast as she could. He hadn’t taken her too far in; if she kept up a steady pace, she could be back inside before he realized it was a trick. Water soaked into her socks and boots. She was going to have to remove them afterwards, borrow clothes again. It was just like the other time she and Naegi had stumbled into the swamp, and . . .

She was in the swamp.

How? It wasn’t this close to the church –

Big people like Owada shouldn’t be able to move stealthily. Yet there was no warning before the sudden hand on her braid and the _yank_. It created an odd pain, like a numb area that had been hit with a cold hammer; a strong, heavy hammer though. It made her gasp and fall back into Owada’s chest.

“Bitch!” he hissed.

“Owada-kun!”

She did manage to tear away from him, but she wasn’t fast enough to _get away_ from him. He reached for her, grabbing her upper arm even as her hand snapped around his wrist. Her elbow dropped, her hips twisted, and she wrenched his wrist _down_ and around. His face contorted in pain and she saw those muscles stiffen and freeze, as if she had zapped him with electricity –

And she lost her grip as she narrowly dodged the swing from his free hand.

She took a step back. “You don’t hit girls.”

“I don’t,” he agreed. “But those guys ain’t human so if you’re siding with them, you ain’t a fucking lady either.”

And he charged.

On another, better day, she could have bore it. She could have defeated him. But with her ankle the way it was, she couldn’t get her footing. Owada’s shoulder rammed into her chest, ripping off her feet. The water exploded around her as she fell, painting her with the muddy slurry.

“Where’s the scripture?!”

“What do you expect to do with it?” Kirigiri said, struggling to free a boot that had caught in the muck. “If your theory is right, then if you read it, you’ll end up like him.”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

His weight slammed into her, driving her further into the mud as he straddled her waist. His hunched form blocked out the sky, though she still saw stars as his hands wrapped around her throat and squeezed. With every moment of struggle, she sunk further and further into the mud, like a corpse being lowered into the ground.

Suddenly, their foreheads smashed together as Owada lost his balance and fell forward. He lay there, stunned. He regained himself slowly, rising as he did, their eyes locking as they both panted for breath –

He lurched forward again. But before their skulls collided this time, he slid backward somehow. Not a little, but enough to tear him off Kirigiri completely. She renewed her efforts to get up, fighting both her own weakness and the mud sucking at her body.

She didn’t see Owada right away. On her knees, she looked around. Where. . .?

No wonder she hadn’t seen him. Owada’s brown hair wasn’t normally as brown as mud, but it certainly was when it was covered in the damn stuff. He was mere feet away, submerged up to his chest in the swamp, struggling to find a foothold so he could climb to safer ground.

“Get me out of here!”

He reached for her. Part of her wanted to leave him there for her own protection, but the sight of the water lapping at his chin was disturbingly familiar. She grabbed a stick – she didn’t trust him enough to offer a hand. He grabbed the end when she offered it to him. She dug in her heels as he pulled, but the swamp’s grasp was strong and wasn’t letting go. Owada stopped suddenly and Kirigiri saw his eyes widen in utter terror –

There was a massive pull in the wrong direction. Her wet gloves couldn’t maintain the friction; the stick slipped out between her fingers as Owada’s mouth opened in a silent scream. Then he was below the water, only his hand breaching the surface before that, too, disappeared.

“Owada-kun?” She limped over to the edge of the pool he had disappeared in, expecting him to surface. But he did not. The water was still; not a ripple or a bubble disturbed its glassy surface.

She thrust her arm into the water, reaching, groping, prepared to spring shut around any hint of hair or fabric. But the only thing she caught were slimy weeds again and again and again. What she had witnessed, that hadn’t been right. It had been. . . it was . . .

A large bubble broke the surface and popped. More followed – an entire cloud of them. Something was coming, and she already knew what she would see.

Owada’s limp body rolled back up to the surface. She pressed her fingers against his pulse point.

Nothing.

She . . . He had . . . She needed to get him back to the church so she could alert someone to call for help, then begin CPR. If she could get his blood flowing and get air into his lungs, he may be okay.

More bubbles rose from underneath. Then, he slipped away again, plunging downward with a splash that hit her in the face. This time, he didn’t resurface.

She didn’t reach after him. She didn’t dare stick her hand under the surface again. To disappear like that meant something was here with her. She grabbed a large stick, used that to leverage herself to her feet. Stay too long, and she may end up being its next victim.

Her clothes dripped thick globs onto mud onto the church doors. She didn’t walk inside so much as she fell inside, exhaustion from her foray into the woods finally reaching her. She leaned against a wall, panting, the cold of the water seeping into her weary bones.

“Kirigiri-san, are you okay?” Shinguji asked, approaching her slowly.

She ignored him and pushed off the wall, aiming for the nearest washroom.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Shinguji said. “Humans are quite fragile beings.”

She ignored him again. Yonaga crawled out of whatever hidey-hole she had been in and murmured to Shinguji. Shinguji lay a comforting hand on the small woman’s shoulder, and the two of them watched Kirigiri stumble away together.

“Wow, you had a number done on you,” Enoshima said. She was lounging just outside the washroom, as if knowing Kirigiri would come there. “Even Mukuro’s okay with mucking around in the swamp, but it doesn’t work with suit you at all.”

Kirigiri ignored her and walked inside.

Brown, muddy water ran through her fingers and into the drain, nearly clogging it. Once her hands were presentable, she grabbed her phone. Water had gotten in her purse, but her cellphone still turned on. She immediately called Togami and . . . he didn’t answer. That bastard! She tossed the phone at the wall in frustration before belatedly picking it up. Part of her was whispering that she should just let this be; that it wouldn’t matter if she told anyone about Owada or not.

Someone knocked on the door. “Kirigiri-san? I wanted to check whether you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” she bit out at Komaeda.

“If you say so. Remember: you don’t need to lie to me. I have only your best interests at heart. Kamukura-kun and Naegi-kun are here, by the way.”

Why didn’t he say so earlier? She was about to exit when she saw herself in the mirror. Had she lost weight? Mud had caked under her cheekbones. There were similar stains within the folds of her clothes, along her collarbone and tangled with her hair. Naegi was going to throw a fit.

She braced herself and stepped outside.

Sure enough, once he saw her, Naegi teleported to her side. He was so upset that he couldn’t speak; his hands flapped uselessly as he struggled between an instinct to touch her and make sure she was safe, and the instinct to not touch her and avoid aggravating any injuries. She made the decision for him: grabbing him and holding him close. He didn’t say a word about the mud.

“What happened?” he said.

“. . . Owada-kun,” she choked out.

“Owada-kun? What was he doing here? Did he attack you?”

She nodded.

“What did he want?” Kamukura asked.

“This has nothing to do with you,” she said. Naegi made shooing gestures at the other man.

“Kyoko?” Naegi prompted.

“He wanted the scripture. When I refused to give it to him, he tried to take it by force. Something in the swamp pulled him underwater.”

“He . . . Is he okay?”

She exhaled. “He’s dead.”

Naegi stiffened. He forced himself to breathe, and his breath rattled.

“He attacked you because he wanted a scripture?” Kamukura repeated.

“What did I say before?” Kirigiri said.

Kamukura took a step back. “Sorry, we’re just trying to figure out what happened here.”

“We need to tell Togami-kun,” Naegi said. “He’ll organize a search party and figure out what happened.”

He could try, but Kirigiri knew it would be hopeless. They would find nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> An absent character makes a reappearance.


	38. Chapter 38

“Here, give me your bag.”

She did. Not that there was much in it. Just some clothes she hadn’t deemed clean enough to wear in the cab. Naegi shuffled off with them, and she overheard clinking in the laundry room as he set to work. She herself retreated to the kitchen, where she made herself the biggest, hottest cup of tea she could.

“Owada-kun messed up the place and tossed things around, but it doesn’t look like he damaged much. We could clean up in a day,” Naegi said as he walked into the kitchen.

She nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Naegi asked. He sat across from her and waited.

She shook her head. “There’s nothing more to discuss. He drowned. I couldn’t do anything to help him.”

“You haven’t seen that very often, have you?” Naegi asked carefully. “Someone dying in front of you.”

“Most people haven’t.” More as a shot at his insensitivity than as a real question, she asked, “Why, have you?”

“Only in my nightmares,” he said bitterly. “You know this isn’t your fault, right?”

She knew. If Ishimaru had swept the scene properly, he would have found the scripture and Owada would never have gotten his hands on it. But then what? If that had happened, would it instead be Ishimaru at the bottom of a watery grave? There was also the added factor of why that scripture had been in Fujisaki’s possession in the first place.

Naegi mumbled. “Why are so many people dying? They’re not even involved!”

“I don’t know,” she said hoarsely. “Nothing about this case makes sense.”

He stiffened when she said that. “You’re not . . . Please tell me you’re not thinking of doing that again. You know, sneaking back there.”

“No!” she said firmly, gut clenching at the thought. _I learned my lesson_. “I didn’t give Togami-kun enough credit. He knew what he was doing when he took us off the case.”

“So, now what?”

“We wait for our next assignment. We move on,” she said.

“. . . You don’t know how amazing that sounds,” Naegi said. “Kamukura-kun and Yonaga-san are nice, but they don’t outweigh the bad of that place.”

“Odd. You seemed to be having a _great_ time with them.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Naegi said. “I was bored and . . . Komaeda left me alone when I was with others.”

Oh? Naegi hadn’t mentioned that before. She knew he thought it was because Komaeda didn’t want to be a creep in front of others, but she had a different picture in her mind: of a wily coyote herding sheep into the jaws of its brethren –

_BANG! BANG!_

“Ah, Togami-kun must be here.” She wrapped her braid around her finger, trying to sound nonchalant.

Togami hammered on the door again. Naegi looked like he wanted to dive under the table and hide.

Kirigiri stood. “You stay. I’ll take care of this.”

Honestly, it seemed as if Togami had deliberately struck a pose after that second set of knocks. For he was the perfect picture of displeased authority: nostrils flared, chest thrust out, chin turned up and to the side as if he had smelt something unpleasant. He simply stood there, in that pose, and she didn’t know what she was supposed to say.

Togami sighed, and then walked past her into the kitchen. He snapped his fingers at Naegi, ordering him out of the chair. But despite forcing Naegi to vacate his seat, Togami made no move to claim it.

“Naegi, leave,” Togami said calmly.

Naegi protested. “But . . .”

“It’s fine,” Kirigiri said. “This is mine to deal with.”

Between the two of them, they were able to badger Naegi into leaving. Togami turned on her afterwards, his pointer finger driving straight into her chest.

“I should fire you,” Togami snarled. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

She flinched. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“That’s right, it wasn’t. And why was that? Because you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place!” The finger drew back, only to curl into a fist. “Now, I’m down yet another officer. Give me one reason why I shouldn’t attend the inevitable interview with the media and direct all the blame at you.”

She hugged herself, as if she could shield herself from that future. “If that is necessary, then I understand.”

There was a blur of motion. The back of Togami’s hand was an inch from her cheek, as he had stopped just before it hit her. She glanced at it.

“Why aren’t you angry?” Togami demanded. “Why didn’t you react to that?”

“Because you and Makoto were right,” she said, turning away. “I needed to be taken off that case. I shouldn’t have returned there.”

“What happened?” She recognized her own cool tone in Togami’s, the tone she used whenever she realized that the person she had thought to be the prime suspect was actually the key witness.

“Barring Owada-kun? _Nothing_ ,” she spat. Because it was _true_. They hadn’t done anything to her and somehow, that made everything worse.

Her back was to Togami, but she felt him approach. “I took you off that case not only because of your poor decision making, but because Naegi and I were concerned about your mental health. Obviously, it isn’t just yours I should be concerned about. My officers don’t suddenly go crazy. They don’t just start lunging at each other with the intent to kill. _What is going on?_ ”

She yanked on her braid, revelling in the pain that followed. “I don’t know!”

Her shout rang through the house. Internally, she groaned: Naegi would have heard their quarrel and wouldn’t stay away for long. In fact, speaking of the devil, she heard Togami try to order Naegi to leave again.

“If there was anything I could say to help you, then I would say it,” Kirigiri said. “But I cannot. I don’t understand them or their motives, let alone the events that have occurred.”

“You are not going back there,” Togami ordered. “ _Neither_ of you are.”

She nodded slowly. “No one should. This investigation . . . it needs to die.”

“That’s wonderful. Now, if you excuse me, I need to figure out how to proceed with this search and rescue without yet another officer losing his mind.”

* * *

They spent most of the day cleaning up after Owada. It was mindless work – exactly what the doctor had called for. They ordered pizza, Kirigiri having found that the fridge was nearly empty. They would have to leave the house and go shopping. . . She would deal with that later.

Naegi retired early to relax in the bathtub. She took care of what little cleanup there was and dumped the dishes in the dishrack. Boring, mindless chores. How she had missed them. She watched the water drain and quietly reflected on how badly things had spiraled out of control.

Someone knocked on the back door. Standing there on the other side, looking in, was Tanaka.

“You two have been absent for some time.” The door was closed, but the window above the sink was but a screen, and Tanaka’s voice filtered in through that.

Her fists clenched. “You’ve been watching us.”

“Does that bother you?” Tanaka asked. “Your society’s gods are said to watch you every second of the day, yet that is not feared.”

“I’m atheist,” she said flatly. “That doesn’t apply to me. Give me a reason not to call the police.”

He chuckled deeply. “Are you still under the delusion that their chains can hold me?”

Perhaps. Perhaps not. They still had no idea how Tanaka had broken out last time. Right. Tanaka had broken out after _she_ arrested him . . . and now he was here. . . facing the person responsible for his arrest. She swept his body for weapons, thankful there was a glass door between them.

“Why are you here?” she demanded.

“For the last few nights,” Tanaka said, “the world has sung songs of torment. The earth itself has rumbled with foul whispers from beyond. The Devas speak of abominations clambering at the gate. The tainted power of that church may blind me to within, but I still hear them bay in triumph. What evil have you wrought upon us?”

“You make just as much sense as you did before you disappeared,” she said, frustrated. “You shouldn’t have returned. The police were not looking for you.”

And for some reason, what she said infuriated him. The sound exploded in her eardrums like a gunshot as he slammed his fists against the glass. He tore the scarf away from his jaw, for once letting her see his naked expression and the ugly, jagged twist of his snarl. A small, furry head poked out of his collar, and she swore those beady little eyes were glaring at her.

“After what you have seen, you still think I am the enemy?” His hot breaths fogged up the glass between them. “This is beyond regular human ignorance. Open your eyes and see the truth before you!”

“How can I when no one tells me anything?” she shouted back. “What truth am I supposed to see? What am I supposed to be fighting against?”

“ _The gate!_ ” Tanaka hollered. “They are trying to open the gate!”

“And what happens when they do?”

His red eye blazed bright in the night. “Then they unleash hell unto this universe.”

She fought the urge to beat her head against the glass. “And what does _that_ stand for?”

Tanaka stared at her silently. Then he lowered his voice.

“It doesn’t stand for anything.”

She was silent.

“They have allotted a role for you, but I do not understand why,” Tanaka said. “You are human.”

“Tanaka-kun?”

Naegi peered at the two of them from down the hall. He didn’t seem alarmed to see Tanaka, just confused. Silently, she berated him for interrupting at a time where Tanaka was at least _trying_ to give answers.

“. . . He’s been cursed,” Tanaka hissed.

She whipped around, but Tanaka had already disappeared, leaving her with nothing but those dire words echoing in her ears.

* * *

She lived with an anxiety she wasn’t used to as she shopped that day. She had tried hard – very hard actually – to convince Naegi to come with her, but he hadn’t been the least bit inclined. And yet he had no problems with her leaving, so she could only conclude he wanted to be alone. Though it must have been benign, she couldn’t wonder if he was doubting her motives the way Togami was. She could vividly recall the real fear she saw there when Naegi had questioned her loyalty. After everything, she couldn’t blame him for still doubting her. (Because even she didn’t fully trust herself.)

At least they had phones. She kept their connection alive with texts, sending him a message at least every half-hour about what she was buying or things that came to mind. She lived for his responses, for the little beep of her phone that indicated he was safe. She still shopped as quickly as she could, however, and had even recruited Maizono to gather materials even faster.

“. . . And everyone was just standing there, waiting for her to say her lines, but the poor thing was terrified – that’s always the danger of working with new actors. Then, out of nowhere, the male lead pops in and just swoops her off her feet – literally – into a ballet lift. Not only do they make that look like it was planned, but it shook her enough to start thinking again and the two managed to adlib their way back into the original script. I know you don’t work in theatre, but trust me when I say that’s impressive.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she said. Her phone vibrated, and she quickly scanned over Naegi’s latest text. Maizono watched her do so.

Maizono asked, “Is everything okay?”

She sighed. “We’ve had a rough few days, but it’s fine now.”

“Is this related to what’s happening with the police?”

What? Something else was happening? Neutrally, hiding her own lack of knowledge, Kirigiri said, “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“I saw Officer Ishimaru bawling on a bench in the park. That doesn’t strike me as usual behaviour for him.”

Ah. It was only a matter of time before it started getting out. “There’s been a death on the force. Officer Ishimaru was very close to the victim.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Oh, looks like Hagakure-kun was here.”

She looked where Maizono was pointing. Sure enough, there was an ‘The End is Nigh!’ sign abandoned on the ground.

“Are you sure everything’s alright? You don’t just invite me to shop with you out of the blue,” Maizono said knowingly. “I’m not sure you would shop with anyone other than Naegi-kun on a normal day.”

“Does everyone always think the world is ending when I decide to socialize?” The words sounded serious, but Kirigiri was careful to express them so that Maizono knew she wasn’t hurt.

“Great talent always brings out the gossipers,” Maizono said.

“Really? And what kind of gossip have you heard about me?”

Maizono blushed a little, and Kirigiri couldn’t tell whether she was flexing her acting muscles or not. “Well, I don’t think it’s something I need to say out loud in public. . .”

“. . . It’s the one where I’m attracted to corpses, isn’t it?” That little rumor had dogged her for _years_.

“If it helps, I never believed it,” Maizono said with a cheery smile. As if to ease any ruffled feathers left by the teasing, Maizono hooked their arms together. “You know, when I was younger, I never would have imagined we would get along so well.”

“I wasn’t that bad. Was I?”

“You’re definitely more social now,” Maizono confirmed, “but I was referring to the time you threatened to kill me.”

Monotonously, Kirigiri said, “Please don’t exaggerate.”

“I’m not exaggerating. I’m talking about the time you . . . You don’t remember, do you?”

“Why would I have ever threatened you like that?” She truly had no idea, because she didn’t even speak to _criminals_ that way.

“Why else?” Maizono said, as if it didn’t matter. “Makoto.”

“Makoto?” she parroted. “That doesn’t make any sense. You’re his best friend.”

“That’s exactly why it makes sense,” Maizono said with laughter. “You thought I might get in the way of your relationship. So, you told me if I did, you’d kill me.”

Maizono was laughing, as if this was nothing more than a silly accident between childhood friends. But Kirigiri knew herself. While she had sized Maizono up as competition when she was younger, she never would have taken it to such extremes. She never would have exposed herself like that.

“Honestly, it was terrifying at the time,” Maizono said. “If it hadn’t happened and today, someone showed me a picture of how you looked at me back then, I wouldn’t have believed them. It was like you were a different person. But now I know that behind that seriousness, there’s a very nice person inside.”

Why was Maizono smiling? This wasn’t funny. This was wrong. This was . . . it was . . .

 

_“Who signed those papers?”_

_Ishimaru stared at her. “You did.”_

_“I had Fujisaki run some facial recognition algorithms,” Togami said, frowning. “Every single one of them pointed to you.”_

_“Then why do you keep doing things like this?” Naegi cried._

. . . It was the truth, wasn’t it?

* * *

The radio was on when she walked inside, playing a light melody. She dropped her bags by the door. She could hear Naegi in the kitchen washing dishes and some weight lifted from her shoulders. Maybe if she closed her eyes, maybe if she crept up behind him, wrapped her arms around his shoulder and laid a kiss on his cheek, she could pretend this was an ordinary day in an ordinary life.

She stared at her hands. Slowly, she pulled one free of its glove. Her scars wrinkled as she manipulated her hand in the daylight. The mark of a Kirigiri. A reminder of duty and sacrifice.

No. She tossed the glove aside for now. She’d cleansed her hands of the case; it was time to cleanse her soul, to wash herself of her sins. An she felt like she needed to wash them literally, too. Her gloves protected her hands from dirt, but the gnarled skin still felt dirty to her. She walked into the washroom –

And froze at the red liquid that had started to harden on the sink.

It wasn’t just there. A splatter of blood rested on the ground by the toilet; a small trail of drops led to the garbage can where a layer of crumpled, not-red tissues lay. She reached into the trash, and it didn’t take much scavenging before she found the blood-stained paper towels underneath the deceptive white layer. The blood on the ground was congealing, so it wasn’t recent, but this didn’t happen long ago either. It was recent enough that she should have been here to stop it, and long enough ago that it could be too late –

“Kyoko?”

Her head smacked into the underside of the sink as she leapt to her feet. Something slipped out of Naegi’s hand to the floor with a thump as he rushed forward. . . only to promptly trip over his feet, smack into her, and send her head into the sink _again_. They landed in a groaning heap, Naegi giggling nervously and apologizing.

“It’s fine.” She grabbed his chin and wrenched it this way and that, checking his scalp for bleeding. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Huh?” He stretched the word out. “Oh, yeah. Yeah! I’m fine. I had a big nosebleed and I was coming to clean it up.”

His arm flopped toward the item he had dropped, which she saw now was a large, wet rag. Okay. His explanation made sense. She groped under his shirt just in case, checking for injuries, only receiving resistance when she strayed too close to his waistband.

“You’re not injured?” she repeated.

He nodded giddily. “Nope!”

It made sense. But if that was the case . . .

Then why had Naegi hidden those bloody papers under clean ones?

“What triggered the nosebleed?”

He stared blankly at her. It almost looked like someone had pointed a remote and clicked ‘ _pause._ ’ “Oh, uh, I guess it was just its time. It just decided to happen. Isn’t that rude?”

She blinked. Why was he talking like this?

“Okay, I’m going to clean up now!” He tried to grab the rag without getting off his bottom, which ended up tipping him over. He lay there on his side, still reaching for it.

She had a horrible suspicion of what was going on. She yanked him back upright, spun him toward her, leaned in, and took a big sniff.

“You have got to be joking. What on earth were you drinking?”

“Me? Drinking? No! Noooooo! I wasn’t drinking.” He tried to bat his eyelids innocently, but just made his eyeballs look like they were twitching.

“You’re drunk. I can’t believe this. You’re _drunk!_ ” She stood up in a rage, pulling at her braid. “I come home with the worst theory of my life, I _need_ you, and you went and got yourself drunk. You don’t even drink! Where did you even . . .?”

She stopped. Naegi was cowering on the floor, like she was yelling at a child.

“. . . Where did you get alcohol?”

Naegi shuffled away, holding his hands close as if hiding something.

“Makoto, did you leave the house today?”

“No,” he said.

“Where did you get alcohol?” They had some wines, but they were for her and visitors as Naegi didn’t have much of a taste for them.

He mumbled too quietly for her to hear. She said his name firmly and then he groaned, “I can’t tell you. I promised.”

That left one option: someone had brought him alcohol.

Someone had come here with alcohol while Naegi was alone. Someone had somehow not only coaxed him into accepting it, but into drinking it as well. That same person might have been inside the house, might have been here while Naegi was drunk and malleable.

“Makoto!” She grabbed his hoodie by the shoulders. “ _What else happened?_ ”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell you. It was the deal.”

What was he doing _?_ She could wait until he was sober, as he didn’t seem drunk enough to black out and lose his memories. But what if the visitor had been someone dangerous? She knew it was a male, and that could easily mean _Komaeda_ – oh god was Komaeda staking out their doorstep now? Half the people at that church were males and while Shinguji was an enigma, Komaeda and Kamukura were definite threats.

“Makoto, look at me. _Look at me._ Did you make a deal with Hope’s Peak?”

“Hope’s Peak?” His face twisted with disgust. “No! Komaeda’s mean. They need to . . . to go away!”

The revulsion sounded genuine. But if not anyone from Hope’s Peak, then who?

. . . He’d been doing dishes, hadn’t he? That might give her a clue. She went into the kitchen, where one sink was still full of suds. There was nothing other than liquid in either. There was, however, one thing in the dish rack that caught her eye.

A steak knife.

The blade was clean, but also freshly washed. Who knew what Naegi had washed off it? She didn’t dare pick the knife up herself, fearing she would fumble it. She had no idea what was going on, why Naegi wasn’t talking . . .

But even though something strange had happened to him, at least he _remembered_ it. She couldn’t say the same for herself. People kept saying she was doing things and she never remembered performing those acts. She couldn’t even discuss it with anyone because no one would believe her and the only person she trusted was too drunk to understand . . .

Hold on.

Was it true no one would believe her? If she thought about it, if she loosened her restrictions, she had spoken to someone who had been through something similar. But it would . . . it would require going back to _that_. She didn’t want to. She _couldn’t._

But she had to. There was no where else to get answers, and she couldn’t afford not to get them.

So be it.

She needed to speak to Yonaga Angie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Kirigiri confronts Angie.
> 
> Just a quick note, we are entering the beginning of the endgame for this story. That means answers for the mysteries are going to start popping up. However, unlike the Lion's Den where we flitted between POVs, Kirigiri is the only viewpoint character in this story. This means _only mysteries relevant to her will be explicitly explained._ The answer to mysteries like the purpose of those pictures with the blindfolded Ikusaba or Chuck's death **might** be hinted at, but will not be laid out in the text. My suggestion is that you guys gather the questions you want answered, post them in the comments, and if I feel we have reached the point of the story where it's safe to reveal the answers, I'll include them in the endnotes for the next chapter.


	39. Chapter 39

“I must say: this is unexpected. Here to grovel? I’ll have you know that after everything you’ve put me through, I’m expecting some very _thorough_ grovelling.”

Kirigiri ignored Togami’s taunts, and shuffled past him into the house. It wasn’t often that she or Naegi visited Togami at his estate, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“No snide comebacks?” Togami said as she closed the door behind her. “You really are out of it.”

“. . . There’s no comeback to make.”

“Come again?”

“There’s no comeback to make. I am here to beg for help.”

The silence that followed was long and accusatory. Togami stalked toward her slowly, like a wolf who wasn’t sure if its quarry was dead. He circled around to her front, keeping a safe distance between them before saying, “Who the hell are you?”

“Don’t waste our time with that nonsense again,” she groused, reclaiming some of her old fire.

“Kirigiri Kyoko doesn’t grovel,” Togami spat. “She doesn’t let me insult her and _take_ it.”

“Kirigiri Kyoko doesn’t get thrown off cases either.”

Togami pulled back, both literally and metaphorically. He pushed his glasses up his nose, hand twitching as if he wanted to take them off, clean them, and verify what he was seeing was true. Then he stepped aside, nodding at the kitchen in a wordless command for her to sit and talk. It was one of the purest expressions of concern she had ever seen him make.

Once seated, Togami pointedly asked, “Where’s Naegi?”

“Home. He doesn’t know I’m here. Togami-kun, I’m asking you to escort me to Hope’s Peak, so I can question someone.”

“I’m mishearing.” Even louder, Togami repeated, “I’ve misheard you. Obviously, I must have, because Kirigiri Kyoko isn’t dumb enough to forget she’s been removed from a case, and she _especially_ isn’t dumb enough to approach the person responsible for her reassignment and request an escort.”

“It’s not about the case,” she said. “It’s me. You were right. Everyone’s right. Something’s. . . there’s something wrong with me.”

“And you think speaking to them will somehow fix that?”

“No. Never,” she said, “but Yonaga Angie said something that makes me think she understands what is wrong with me. I’m asking you – no, I am _begging_ you – to let me speak to her. I need to know whether my suspicions are right.”

Togami had one arm on the table as he leaned back. “And what will you do if they are?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know.”

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered to himself. “Stay here.”

Togami went into another room, but not before he pulled out his cellphone. There was no telling whom he was calling, although she could guess the topic of discussion. She didn’t bother to keep track of how long Togami spent on the phone, only checking her own phone to ensure Naegi hadn’t texted her.

When Togami returned, he said something she hadn’t expected:

“Let’s go.”

She blinked. “Now?”

“Yes,” he said. “Yonaga Angie is going to meet us at a café.”

“You reached her on a phone? I thought she didn’t have one,” she said as she walked after him.

“She doesn’t. I used the landline Komaeda oversees.” Togami gave her a meaningful look. “He was awfully receptive after I mentioned it had nothing to do with the investigation, and that you had requested the meeting.”

“He believed you?”

“For some reason, yes.”

Togami had already shrugged on his jacket and was halfway out the door. Kirigiri called after him.

“Before we leave, could tell someone else what we’re doing, just in case something happens to us?”

Togami laughed humourlessly. “Why? So they can call you in two hours and get told they’re being a bother?”

“. . . What?”

He waved his phone at her. “Yes, I’m still bitter about that. What did you expect? You _demand_ that I call you in two hours to check up on you, and when I accept from the kindness of my heart and do so, you treat me as if I’m a mollycoddling nanny.”

“Are you . . . are you talking about that time I was exploring the caverns under the church?” Could it be? After so long, after she had already given up . . .

“I presume that’s what you were doing. You didn’t exactly offer details.” He was out of the house now and opening the door to his car. “Are you coming?”

She hurried after him. “Togami-kun, the day you called me, was that the same day I had my nervous breakdown?”

“Hm.” He tapped his key against the wheel. “I think there was at least a full day between those two incidences.”

A day.

A full day.

 _Days_. Not hours.

Not two hours.

_I was right._

In the heat of everything that had happened, she had forgotten about her request to Togami. And it had turned out to be the proof she needed all along.

 _They were wrong. They were_ lying _. Komaeda, Ikusaba. . . they were all lying to me. Naegi, too. He lied to me, as well. Why? Because he was ashamed of gallivanting around with Ikusaba –?_

Her thoughts paused, because this was something else she had forgotten. She had been so absorbed with her own story, with her own justice, that she never looked at it from the other side. There were two days that Naegi had been at Hope’s Peak while she rotted in the caves below. She knew where she had been and what she had done, but what he had been doing during that time?

* * *

It was bright and sunny when they arrived at the café. Yonaga must have gotten a ride immediately after Togami had hung up, because how else would the priestess have beaten them here? With one leg crossed over the other, Yonaga’s foot bounced on the ground. A couple of employees stared at her, no doubt due to Yonaga’s choice of clothing.

Still seated in the passenger seat, Kirigiri asked, “Togami-kun, is it okay if I speak to her alone.”

“Normally, I would threaten to throw you in jail, but you did come to me first this time. I’ll allow it, but realize I am _right here_.”

“I know. I’m glad you are.”

Yonaga waved at her. Kirigiri obviously didn’t return it and sat across from her.

“Nagito said you wanted to talk to me,” Yonaga said casually as if Komaeda was a great friend to them.

“It’s about your art, and Atua as well.” She glanced around, irrationally paranoid that people were listening, that Togami had posted officers that would pounce once she confessed this next truth. “You said that sometimes, Atua would . . . he would take over your body to produce art. How literal is this?”

“It’s exactly like I said it was!” Yonaga said, twirling a paintbrush she had pulled out of nowhere.

Part of her had expected this, but none of her was ready to hear it. Her body tightened and felt like it was withdrawing into itself, winding into a ball so tight no one could ever unravel it and threaten her again. Yonaga smiled at her like a child receiving candy, like a queen watching the beheading of a pretender.

She could barely speak with her dry, swollen tongue. “Do you know when Atua takes over your body?”

“Oh, Atua always warns me,” Yonaga said with a flick of her wrist. “I mean if it was an emergency, then He can’t, but that hasn’t happened yet.”

“But are you aware of it? Do you see yourself moving without your consent?”

“You mean am I conscious?” Yonaga asked with a tilt of her head. “No. If Atua decided to use me as a vessel to produce a miracle, it’s better if I don’t see it. Cause if it’s too divine, my brain would explode!”

“Then you don’t remember anything from the times he possessed you.”

“I do sometimes, but only cause Atua wants me to!”

This was her nightmare come to life. A few weeks ago, she would have never entertained such a theory. Now, not only was this theory shaping up to be possible, it was shaping up to be the _only_ possibility. An unknown god, an unknown _thing_ with murky goals and intentions possessing her body at a whim, forcing her to complete its dirty work and blanking her mind of all knowledge of it . . . How had her life come to this?

Wait. There was still one detail, one small hope she clung to.

“Even though you can’t remember the times you were possessed, you must know when it occurs,” Kirigiri thought aloud. “You would notice the loss in time unless the possession was very brief.”

Yonaga made a thoughtful noise as if she and Kirigiri were partners working on a case. “It doesn’t really work like that. Atua says human memory is really strange and unless they know they’re about to lose time, their brain usually makes things up to fill the gap. It’s like they were having a daydream, but about normal things.”

“Then if this was happening to me, I may not even realize I’ve lost time.”

“Oh, is that how it’s been for you?” Yonaga asked with genuine delight and curiosity. “Don’t worry, it’s just because of the circumstances. I’m sure you won’t be forgetting forever.”

“Then this is the truth,” she said weakly. “This Atua’s been possessing me.”

“Atua? No, that’s not right. Atua wouldn’t puppet you.”

She snapped to attention. A way out of this sinkhole? “But you just said he could, didn’t you?”

“Atua can puppet people, but He _only_ puppets me because I’m the one who belongs to Him,” Yonaga explained patiently. “It’s a super divine honor, you know, so they won’t puppet just anyone.”

“They only puppet their disciplines. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yep!”

“Then my theory’s not possible. I’m safe. No one’s possessing me.” Kirigiri wasn’t one for nervous laughter – that was more Asahina’s territory – but there would never be a better time to indulge. As she laughed, it felt like she was snapping strings had been constricting her body, restraining her freedom in a way that was unnoticeable until they were gone.

“Why do you say that?” Angie said.

The strings returned, tightened around her throat. “You said only those who serve Atua can be puppeted by him.”

“I did, but Atua’s only one of the Elders.”

She stared at Yonaga. “What are you saying?”

“Atua wouldn’t puppet you, but that doesn’t mean they all wouldn’t.”

“Are you suggesting that . . .? You’re saying that these Elders have possessed us.”

“Us? You mean Makoto?” Yonaga shook her head. “I think you have it backwards. Nobody would puppet Makoto. He doesn’t belong to the Elders like that.”

“Neither do I!” she rasped out even as in the back of her mind, she already knew where this was going, already knew what Yonaga would say –

“But you really are Kirigiri Kyoko, right?” Yonaga asked. “Then you do.”

“. . . I have to go,” she said after a pause. She stood quickly, tangling with the leg of her chair, knocking it onto the floor where she let it lie. She retreated into Togami’s car, slamming the door closed like a child throwing the blanket over their head to hide from monsters.

“Kirigiri?”

“Drive. I don’t care where. Just get away from her.”

She knew she was making it worse. Togami was no idiot, no matter how much she wished it sometimes. He drove off just as she had asked, only to park on the side of the road shortly after. There, he simply stared at her, allowing that weight to say everything he needed to.

“Togami-kun, I think . . . I think you should try to cross-reference every action I’ve taken since Nanami Chiaki’s murder.”

“I don’t understand,” he finally said. “Why?”

“My actions . . . I have reason to believe they haven’t been entirely been of my own will. I’ve been doing things I haven’t meant to, without remembering. She says Makoto is safe, but I’m . . . You can’t trust me. You can’t trust anything I’ve done, or said to have done, or . . . I know I’m not making any sense, but nothing about this makes sense!”

“You’re not making things any clearer.”

“I don’t need you to understand!” she snapped. “I need you to _listen_. Something’s wrong with me. I’m not of my right mind. Everyone was right.”

“What did Yonaga say to you?” Togami demanded. “I shouldn’t have to remind you, but utterings threats, especially to a law enforcement officer, is a chargeable . . .”

“ _No_! Let it go. Don’t anger them like that.”

She knew what she sounded like. Could sense it in the rippling waves that rolled up her throat and tore it apart from the inside. She didn’t need a mirror to know she wouldn’t have recognized herself. She collapsed against the dashboard, wheezing, not trying to repair her mask – she was too far beyond that. Strangely, Togami didn’t say a word, even though he couldn’t have understood her.

“Togami-kun, can you answer me honestly?” she rasped. “When you took Makoto and me off the case, who did you intend to replace us with?”

Togami sighed. “No one. I didn’t intend to let anyone work that case.”

“You understand then. Part of it, at least.”

“I thought I did, but then you . . .” He shook his head, as if waking from a nightmare. “Just explain this to me: is there anything I can do?”

“. . . You can take me to speak to my grandfather.”

* * *

The Kirigiris, like most families, had their unwritten rules and protocols. She was aware that when compared to families like the Naegis, her family’s traditions were much more formal. They didn’t really ‘drop in’ on each other; they called and scheduled an appointment like any other person. That wouldn’t do today, though. She couldn’t afford to give her grandfather time to run away.

Most people would knock or ring a doorbell. They would wait for someone to answer. Most people were not detectives who had been picking locks since they could lift fingerprints. She flipped the lock and let herself in, making a good amount of noise as she did so that her grandfather would come to her. Which he did, wielding the cane he used as his weapon of choice, until he saw it was his granddaughter and not a murderous stranger.

“Kyoko, this is very unexpected,” her grandfather said. “I must have missed your call.”

“There was no call,” she said. “This is urgent.”

“Oh? Is another criminal organization threatening the Kirigiri Clan? I’ve told you that you don’t need to worry about that.”

“You lied to me.” She said, “You’ve been lying to me this entire time. I asked you what you knew about Hope’s Peak, and you said _nothing_.”

“What are you talking about?” her grandfather asked lightly. He rested both hands on the crown of his cane; it could be a benign, just a comfortable way to hold it; or it could be in preparation for a strike.

“I know about the cases revolving around Yonaga Angie and Ikusaba Mukuro’s father. I know that you’ve known who they are since day one,” she hissed, marching toward the man who raised her. “You lied to me.”

Her grandfather looked her squarely in the face. “How much do you know?”

“You’re not going to deny it?”

“I see no point.” He shuffled his cane off to the side, letting it rest against the wall. “If you’ve gotten this far, you know enough that denying it would do nothing. I can’t say I didn’t expect this, not with someone as tenacious as you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, nearly begging. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He said, “Knowing would only make your work harder.”

“What work? Just tell me what’s going on!”

“Even now, it is best you do not know,” her grandfather said. “Kyoko, you can’t remember for a reason.”

“I can’t remember . . . This didn’t come out of nowhere. Something happened in the past. Something that led up to this.” She grabbed her grandfather’s wrist, staring into his eyes. “Tell me. Please. Let me understand.”

He took a deep breath. “Kyoko, go home and stop thinking about it. Just focus on your job.”

She took a step closer and whimpered, “Grandfather, how did I get myself into this. What did I do?”

 “It’s no good. History is what it is, Kyoko. You can’t change what happened.”

He slipped his wrist out of her hand, brushing it away like something dirty had touched it.

The dismissal was clear. The only person in her life that could know . . . just blew her off. She drew her jacket close to herself and stumbled out into the cold air. Her last avenue for answers had been closed off and . . .

_Has it really?_

She pulled out her phone. She scrolled through the directory and looked at the number saved there.

Perhaps there was one more option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Naegi and Kirigiri mend some of their broken trust.
> 
> Q: Who attacked Tanaka in jail?  
> A: Ikusaba was ordered to kill him. Luckily she failed, which is why Junko is seen berating her the following chapter.
> 
> Q: What was with the crayon drawing in one of the scriptures?  
> As you should know by now, certain church members communcate with the elders via scripture in both words and drawing. The crayon drawing was a message from a young Junko basically saying she wanted her sister to join them.
> 
> Q: Why wasn't Naegi hurt when he tried to remove the sigil on their door?  
> He didn't try very hard. Once he found it wouldn't wash off, he called it a day.
> 
> Q: Who are the others in the congregation?  
> Just cultists like Angie. They are not important.
> 
> Q: Are these Elders gods the same one from Cthulu canon?  
> There may be a few name drops, but otherwise, no. None of the canon Elder Gods will be playing a role in this story.


	40. Chapter 40

She saw Naegi at the window when she walked up to the house, pressed against it like a needy dog waiting for his owner to return. Once she was inside, was he all over her: hovering at her shoulder, flitting around her like a hummingbird checking out a flower.

“Where were you?” he demanded. “You said you were going out with Togami-kun, but you didn’t say why.”

“I was with him most of the time. Although I did visit my grandfather, as well. Come, I’ll explain.”

Despite the horrible thing she had to speak to him about, she was calm. She felt serene. Accepting. The answer to the strange events haunting her may have been horrifying, but at least it was an answer and that meant they could understand it; they could fight it. Sitting next to Naegi on the couch, choosing which words to say was not a surrender or confession; it was taking the stand before the jury for the biggest case of her life.

“I’m going to jump straight to what I need to say. We can agree that during these last few weeks, specifically since we began investigating Hope’s Peak, my behaviour has been abnormal. What I need to know is whether I hurt you during that time.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He blinked at her with those big, innocent eyes.

“Have I hurt you?” she repeated patiently. “During this period, was there ever an occasion I raised my hand to you?”

“No!” he protested fiercely, letting her know he spoke the truth. “There might have been a couple of times where my feelings were bruised, but you would never hurt me.”

“I know,” she said quietly, “but it hasn’t always been me these last weeks.”

“So, there is an imposter?” He paled; she knew he was thinking of sneaked kisses and gratuitous flirting. “Is that who took the car?”

“No, it. . . I need you to listen closely. I believe that it has been my body performing those actions, but that does not mean it was _me_.”

Naegi studied her, puzzling over her statement. “So, do you mean like you’ve been possessed?”

. . . He had figured that out much quicker than she had expected.

“What do you think of the supernatural?” she asked. “I’ve never believed in it. I never believed I would. But some of the things that have been happening defy all logical explanations. I’ll understand if you can’t believe me and the things I’m going to tell you, but I need to. I need to take them seriously. This is too dangerous for me to afford not to.”

Her hand was burned and charred, unfeeling. Her hands couldn’t feel Naegi squeeze them, but she still felt it in the way his hold stretched the skin on her wrist.

“It’s alright, Kyoko. I believe you,” he said.

She closed her eyes. It was time. “Your suggestion is correct. Makoto, something’s been possessing me.”

“So, that’s what you think,” he said. He was much calmer than she had expected. _Much_ too calm, to be exact. Naegi may be more open to these kind of theories, but he should be _this_ accepting.

“You seem rather okay with this.” She told herself, begged herself not to be suspicious, but she couldn’t fight her own nature.

Naegi leaned back against the couch, heaving a great sigh. “This isn’t the first time I’ve heard this theory.”

“What?” Her head snapped around. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“I was told not to. He said that if they – whoever's responsible for this – found out I knew more than I was supposed to, they might come after me.”

“Define ‘as much as you’re supposed to,’” she said worriedly. “How do you it’s okay to speak of it now?”

“We’re in the house,” he said. “It’s as safe as we’re going to get.”

“Makoto, that makes no sense.”

“. . . I think it’s time for me to show you something.” He hopped off the couch and offered his hand.

Naegi took her up to their room. She assumed he was going for his secret stash stuffed behind the right corner of their closet’s shoe rack. (It was adorable how he still thought he could hide things from her!) Instead he took her . . . to the window? He climbed onto the roof and offered his hand once more, inviting her.

“You’ll understand when you see it,” he said.

Kirigiri did make a point of occasionally surveying her home, mostly out of habit, but she had to say that she never included the roof in that patrol route. She stepped out of the window and immediately disliked the angle of the tiles, how it felt like she would slide off like a tumbleweed. Naegi guided her to the top of the roof and down the other side.

“. . . What is that?” she said.

Before her, there was a large white circle, decorated within and without with bizarre, arcane symbols. Within the circle, there was also a sleeping bag and other assorted items, like a hobo’s hideout.

“It’s magic. That’s why you can’t see it from the ground.” Naegi stepped into the circle, and she swore the air shimmered.

“Makoto, you . . .”

“No, I don’t know magic. Uh, please don’t freak out.” He steadied himself, and then spoke. “Ever since he escaped from jail, Tanaka-kun’s been staying on our roof.”

“ _Tanaka?_ ” she spat. This was a joke, right? “He’s been here this entire time?”

“Yes, and I’ve known about it. He’s not our enemy.”

“Where is he?” She looked all around her, as if she would spy Tanaka slinking in the shadows.

Naegi looked back at her very seriously. “Kyoko, why do you hate Tanaka-kun so much?”

“Makoto, he’s a lunatic!”

“So is Hagakure-kun, but you don’t hate him,” he pointed out. “I mean, you don’t like him either, but you don’t start growling every time I bring him up.”

“That’s different. Hagakure-kun is harmless. Tanaka kidnapped us once!”

“And we were fine,” Naegi said. “I don’t understand why he did that either, but there were no bad side-effects. Tanaka-kun and Hope’s Peak hate each other, and the enemy of our enemy is our friend, aren’t they? Plus, you hated him before that happened.”

She didn’t like this. She didn’t want to listen to him – she despised Tanaka. But he was right. She did hate Tanaka for kidnapping them, but her hatred for Tanaka had started the day they met. It wasn’t like Tanaka was the first cryptic suspect she had dealt with either. Tanaka hadn’t even tried to hit on her! Yet her hatred for him had been so natural, and she wasn’t the kind of person to hate without reason.

“Am I still even me?” she whispered. Her nails dug painfully into her arm.

“You are,” Naegi said firmly, grabbing her shoulders. “We’re going to get through this. Together.”

She truly didn’t deserve him. “What else has he told you?”

“He doesn’t know what they want. However, given the timing, it’s really bad. I think. I can’t tell when he’s exaggerating.”

After everything, that didn’t phase her. In fact, it made too much sense.

“What does this have to do with us?” She squeezed his hand back. “They meant this case for us since the beginning. How could they possibly be benefiting?”

“I don’t know.”

“We’re not going there anymore,” she said, half as fact, half as reassurance. “Whatever they want, we’re not giving it to them so easily. The investigation is over. It’s gone cold.”

“So, then that’s it. . . Oh, you can stop worrying about that sigil on our door. Tanaka-kun left it. That’s why you’re safe inside the house.”

She nodded. That took a load off, at least.

“We should really speak to him when he gets back,” Naegi said. “He’ll be here later. He’s always here at night.”

Naegi began to lead her back to the window. She turned to follow, but just as she did, a small notepad caught her eye. She scooped it up quickly, and then followed Naegi back into the house. Once inside, she examined the notebook’s cover.

“Kyoko, you didn’t . . . Seriously? I told you Tanaka-kun’s our friend!”

“So?” she asked, looking up from the notepad.

“You’re not supposed to steal private writings from your friends and look through them!”

“You’re not curious? You really don’t want to know what he wrote about the church in here?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

“. . . We have to put it back right after.”

“Of course,” she said smoothly. “Come, the light’s better downstairs.”

They ended up at the kitchen table. The front of the notepad was decorated with lots of colourful warnings. There wasn’t any overt threats however and if Tanaka had cursed it, she wouldn’t expect him to hide it. She opened the notebook – leaned away just in case it exploded – and then examined its contents.

 _Hope’s Peak. This cult is masquerading itself as a holy institution to deflect attention and justify its large plot of land – or perhaps to mock the holy spirits and those who follow them, to spit in the face of the righteous and . . ._ (She skipped the padding.) _Scouting by the Devas suggest that the building itself is of standard constructions, but the labyrinth underneath is eldritch in design. Whether this be a natural or induced state is unknown. The location is of great concern; it has been a site of activity in the past._

Following that entry wasn’t anything particularly useful. There were sketches, notes of what Tanaka perceived as vulnerabilities in their defences. All his observations appeared to be made from outside; she saw no evidence that Tanaka had ever set foot inside Hope’s Peak.

After that was magical wards. Some of them, presumably those that had failed, had been scribbled out. She recognized some of them as the symbols Tanaka had drawn on the roof, and the one on their door, which guarded against ‘unseen influences.’ Naegi had implied as much, but it was reassuring to read that the actions she took in the shelter of her own home should be her own.

She mentioned that to Naegi, who said, “Yeah, that’s what it’s supposed to do. But I’m surprised you didn’t notice that some of these were also on Nanami Chiaki’s body.”

She paused. Then flipped back to that sigil found on both their door and Nanami’s body. If Naegi was right, then that explained a caveat she had found on that entry:

_Does not work when placed directly on humans._

“He tried to save her,” she said. “We assumed the church drew those sigils as part of a ritual, but it was the other way around. He was trying to protect her.”

With that revelation came a different understanding. If Tanaka had sketched these protective wards onto Nanami Chiaki, then he must have known that she intended to face them. Then Tanaka must have seen her before she died. In fact, it was entirely reasonable that Tanaka had seen her within a full day of her death.

_Is that what you were hiding from us? Is that why you kept silent? Were you trying to keep Makoto and me from getting involved in this mess, or did you know even then that I was untrustworthy?_

The only question she couldn’t guess was why the sigils had been written in Nanami Chiaki’s blood. Then again, she also knew nothing about magic. For all she knew, Nanami’s blood could have been the lynchpin the spell relied upon.

Next in the notepad came what appeared to be a to-do list, complete with one or two notes about whether the task was completed. The first items were typical of an operation in foreign territory: finding allies (Devas of Destruction befriended), securing a perimeter (complete), constructing shelter (complete) and scouting of enemy territory (unachievable). Tanaka had written down that the Devas were unable to scout the caverns, as Hope’s Peak had realized what they were up to. Afterwards, curiosity had driven him to focus on who Ikusaba was (Enoshima’s mortal sister.)  Then there were more notes on recon, some of which she understood, followed by an investigation into someone named Hinata Hajime (Kamukura Izuru). Oh? Was Hinata a relative? That investigation (of which Tanaka had written no results) was followed by an investigation into Yonaga Angie. (In big letters, Tanaka had written: ‘AVOID.’) After that, the topic finally switched to Naegi and her. That wasn’t promising, especially since the only notes Tanaka clearly conveyed his confusion over their situation.

The next two pages of the notepads were filled with indecipherable text. It was the same language as in the scripture. The same scripture that had killed Fujisaki, had driven Owada insane . . .

Just as Naegi leaned in for a closer look, she snapped the notebook shut. While she had strong evidence to suggest Tanaka meant them no harm, she couldn’t say the writing was safe, not when she didn’t know which of its properties had killed her coworkers in the first place.

“It’s too risky,” she said to a protesting Naegi. “It’s of no use to us, anyways.”

“If you’re sure,” he said cautiously. “I was hoping we’d finally figure out what these Elders are.”

“What makes you think it would explain that?” she asked.

“Because that’s what it started with,” Naegi said. “Though I don’t really get what it means to ‘wait dreaming.'”

A short silence followed as she absorbed the implications of his words.

“Are you saying that . . . you _understood_ it?”

“Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t I . . .?” He froze, and it wasn’t the freezing of someone who just realized things didn’t make sense; it was the reaction of one who realized they had just been caught.

“How long?”

“I . . . I swear, I haven’t been lying to you! I don’t understand . . . You know, I was probably imagining things. I could read the rest of it, so I just assumed. . .”

She pushed the notebook away from his groping hands. “I know what I heard you say. And that writing wasn’t in our language.”

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing. I said something stupid. Sometimes, that happens.”

“Don’t. I know what I heard.”

“Yes, because the conversation we had earlier established you as super trustworthy!” he snapped.

She stopped. As did Naegi. His fists, clenched on the table – she hadn’t even noticed – loosened. As he leaned back, pressure rose off her, as if an iron band around her waist had been released.

“I’m sorry, I . . . I’m under a lot of stress, okay? I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

So, was that it? She opened up to Naegi and he now he thought her unreliable? She expected better of him. _Much_ better.

_Two days._

She stilled. Naegi had tried to convince her that she had spent two hours in those caves while she knew it was two days. She had accepted that she was compromised, but what of him?

“I’m sorry,” Naegi was saying. “Let’s just skip that part, alright? You said yourself that it’s useless.”

“I think we’ve looked at enough for now,” she announced, sliding the notebook off the table. “I’ll hold onto this.”

“Kyoko . . .”

No. She stood up and walked away. If he could read it, if he could understand it . . . Then what could he glean from it? What would he learn, and not tell her?

She stuffed it under the mattress – it was such an obvious place Naegi would assume she would _never_ hide it there. She would wait for Tanaka to return, inform him of what happened, and let him take the proper actions to safeguard his belongings.

She was curious about that unknown name in the notepad, however. Casually, she typed ‘Hinata Hajime into her phone’s search engine. She wouldn’t find anything useful; none of the other people involved with Hope’s Peak had turned up useful searches . . .

Oh? There were hits? They were only a couple of months old. And they were from –

Media reports about a missing person.

A cold shiver went up her back. She checked behind her to make sure Naegi wasn’t there, then opened a link. She paid no attention to the text, instead scrolling down until she found a picture of the victim.

This . . . the name said Hinata Hajime, but the image was clearly Kamukura Izuru. There was a small difference: Hinata had only green eyes. Otherwise, it was the same. According to this article, Hinata had disappeared, leaving no clues behind. There was no evidence of foul play, but the matter was that the man had vanished and the last known sighting was him leaving his workplace. His disappearance had been reported by his close friend –

Nanami Chiaki.

She read the name over and over again. Nanami Chiaki. That couldn’t be a coincidence, no more than Kamukura and Hinata looking alike could be. So much had happened, and she was finally getting a hint at why Nanami had been the victim –

No. This case was over. She was done with it. This information didn’t matter. At most, she could pass it on to Togami and let it die.

Still, she couldn’t stop staring at that photograph. Not until she forcefully turned her gaze away and threw her phone onto the bed. Rubbing her brow, she wandered over to the window and stared outside. It was a nice day out. Peaceful. But it was in that peace that she accepted it:

They weren't going to leave Hope's Peak behind that easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... At least Naegi trusts her more now! :D
> 
> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri deals with hobos.


	41. Chapter 41

Kirigiri stared out the window. The walls of her home were safety, but they also were a cage. Even if she were willing to step outside and risk disaster, Naegi had voiced great disapproval at the thought. He had also dismissed her when she pointed out that they couldn’t hide forever and shuffled away. That left Kirigiri by her lonesome, sitting by the window, knee bouncing.

Outside, a male figure was walking along the sidewalk. There was nothing between him and her; her line of sight should have been clear. Yet she found it difficult to distinguish any of his features, as if someone had placed a smeared piece of glass between them. The figure stopped, turned slightly to stare at their house. Then, they simply disappeared.

 _Then it’s time_. She stood up, cracked her spine. She headed upstairs to her room.

Though she knew it was safe, there was still a sense of wrongness as she climbed out the window and onto the roof. Nothing seemed amiss; it was empty to her eyes. But when she moved forward, as she followed the same path Naegi had shown her, Tanaka suddenly flashed into view. The man was lounging around, munching on a sandwich, jumping when he noticed her.

“Makoto told me everything,” she said quietly.

He looked her up and down. “Yes, he has. That is why you have not attempted to bestow a curse upon me.”

She glanced at the sigils engraved around him. God, she hated this: standing here with a man who was an expert in a field she was powerless in. Was it innate? Could she, too, harness the magical arts and learn to protect herself from these things? Or would they tell her that it was useless, that she would forever be helpless to resist them?

Although she had to, she hated telling Tanaka what she had told Naegi, about how she had been compromised. She did her best to recite it automatically, to wipe her memory of the confession the second after it left her lips.

“. . . There must be something you can do,” she said, loathing how it sounded like begging.

Tanaka had remained silent while she spoke. Even his hamsters had settled down and watched her, as if they could understand. He hooked one finger in his scarf, tugging it a bit away from his lips, before he answered.

“Naegi told me there is something you received from Hope’s Peak; a symbol of theirs with a gem.”

It took her a long time to figure out what he was referring to, for the sole reason that she had barely paid the gift any attention after she removed it. Once she knew what she needed, she left to retrieve it. But where had she put that . . .? Oh, right. She thrown it into the evidence file in her office.

Unlike some other things during this investigation, the rosary was exactly where she expected it to be. It looked exactly as she remembered. She turned it over, stared at it in the sunlight. Nothing seemed unusual.

She took the rosary to Tanaka, who wouldn’t even accept it from her. Instead, he said, “Place it around your neck.”

“I. . .” She stared at the rosary hanging from her fingers. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“No, those were always harmless,” Tanaka said. “They were a genuine gift. If they were capable of such things, they would be considered a token of friendship. What matters is that it was made by their hand.”

“I see.” She closed her eyes with dread. She placed the rosary around her neck. She waited.

“Now what?” she asked. “Are you going to enchant it?”

“I did eons ago,” Tanaka said, “when Naegi presented it to me.”

Naegi did that? Then why hadn’t he . . . Ah. He would have known she wouldn’t believe it, that she would have been much more likely to destroy it than wear it. Yet he had still done it anyways, just in case.

“Thank you,” she said, working unspoken apologies into her words. Tanaka, still strangely mellow, was about to speak when his head suddenly snapped around to stare at something.

Down below, behind some bushes by the sidewalk, something stirred. Something large and humanoid. Could it be? Did they already know that she was wearing the enchanted rosary? Could they be here to punish her, to remove a liability?

“He has returned,” Tanaka said, although he didn’t seem concerned. That calmed her enough to act. She posted herself at the edge of the roof and peered closely at the hunched form.

“What is he doing here?” she said to herself. “Tanaka-kun, you said I am safe now, correct?”

“Not safe,” Tanaka rumbled. “But the sanctum of your mind should be free of their insidious tendrils.”

She stared at the ground below. She could make the jump easily; she had been through worse trials while chasing suspects. But if she dropped off this roof, then she was no longer under its protection – Tanaka’s wards no longer guarded her. He claimed the rosary would protect her, but when she had put it on, she hadn’t felt any different. What if it wasn’t working?

She laughed bitterly at herself, at her own hypocrisy. Here she was, hesitating, unable to trust Tanaka’s word, unable to leave her haven. . . when said haven was only a haven because Tanaka claimed it was.

That gave her courage. She dropped off the roof onto the lawn. Merely a couple of seconds after she ‘magically’ appeared in the front yard, the figure spying on their house saw her. How did she know that? Because the figure screamed and leapt up.

Hagakure had never been very subtle.

“Kirigiri-chan!” Hagakure said very loudly, waving with both arms. “It’s a nice day out, huh? I was just passing by. And I’m going to leave now -!”

“ _Stop!_ ” She barked, rooting Hagakure to the stop. Her powerful strides carried her to him and Hagakure, seeing he was in trouble, dropped to his knees. Above his bushy hair, his hands pressed together in prayer, as if pleading for mercy from a mighty goddess.

“H-hey, Kyoko-chan –”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Kirigiri-chan! _Kirigiri-chan!_ I was just in the neighbourhood. I wasn’t sneaking around your house to see if you were home or anything!”

Now he bent over like he was bowing to her. She knew it was cruel of her, she knew he didn’t deserve it, but after Hope’s Peak, it was nice to see someone afraid of her.

“You wanted to see me? Why?” she asked.

“Huh? I didn’t want to see you.”

She took a breath. “You just said –”

He recoiled as if she had snapped a whip at him. “I was hoping you weren’t home! I was looking for Naegi-kins!”

Ah, that made more sense. Hagakure had yet another harebrained theory to run past her partner, given that Naegi was the only one who could stand there and listen to him. Just . . . How did Hagakure know where they lived?

“Let me see if I’ve understood you correctly. You were sneaking around my house in hopes of getting Makoto alone . . . “

“It’s nothing illegal. You don’t need to call the cops! Uh, the other cops.” Hagakure tried to give her a disarming smile. “You’re not going to arrest me, right?”

Of course not. But, just to tease him, she stroked her chin as if seriously thinking about it. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Hagakure waved his arms frantically, as if the threat of arrest was a buzzing fly he could shoo away. “Don’t charge me! Do you know how much fines are? Look! See, I don’t have anything illegal.”

He started emptying out his pockets and. . . where did he even get all this clutter? There were colored rocks, cards, incense, small flat stones with runes carved into them, and even a half-eaten chocolate bar. He was right that there was nothing illegal. Not that she would have charged him if there was. Seeing Hagakure – dealing with a familiar, safe craziness that she understood – was a gift in its own way.

“What about the bag?” She pointed to the shopping bag he had tried to hide behind him.

“This? Nothing to see here!” He said with an awkward laugh. And despite saying that, he grabbed the bottle inside by its neck and pulled it out. “See? Still closed and everything!”

She idly examined the whisky he held out, the brand on its label. She blinked.

“You had enough spare change to spend on that?” she said, her surprise real. That was not a cheap brand.

“Heh, heh.” Hagakure stretched nonchalantly, the exact same way a person who was trying to act modest would before launching into a bragging session. “I may have hit the motherload.”

“Nothing illegal, correct?”

“Hey, my powers might be so awesome that they should be illegal, but everything I did was good! Some woman wanted to speak to her dead sister, so I conducted a séance for her and now I have more than enough to buy this. So, everything’s cool, right?”

“No.” She flipped her hair. “You still haven’t told me why you’re looking for Makoto in the first place.”

Silence followed. Strange. Hagakure was usually happy to spout his conspiracy theories at anyone who would listen. Something was wrong.

“I suggest you start talking _now_ ,” she said.

Hagakure partially raised his hand. “Uh, so I’m not supposed to tell you. . .”

She hated this. She hated that Hope’s Peak had damaged her enough that the mere implication Naegi hadn’t told her something made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. But they did, anyways. She could picture herself as seen through Hagakure’s eyes. Slowly swelling with a terrifying aura, shadow darkening her face; maybe she even adopted the reptilian eyes of the aliens he prattled about so often.

“Okay!” Hagakure cried, shielding his head. “I’ll tell you. I was just bringing Naegi-kins this!”

He thrust the bottle of whisky at her.

“You forgot the punchline,” she said.

Hagakure’s jaw fell open. “What? He wanted punch instead? You’re supposed to warn a guy when . . . Uh, I mean I’m psychic and everything, but I still appreciate an in-person warning. How else will I know it’s not the ghosts trying to trick me?!”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m very curious to know why you’re bringing my boyfriend whisky.”

“Because this is a stronger brand than last time!” Hagakure said proudly. “See, I thought maybe the issue last time was that it wasn’t strong enough. So, I’m sure this time things will be great.”

“You’re the reason he was drunk? Because he asked you to buy him alcohol,” she said aloud, stunned. She had expected differently, much differently. She had expected a much more _dangerous_ answer. Having the culprit be dumb, simple Hagakure was so much _better_ than she had hoped for and she had an unfamiliar urge to laugh. “Fine. I’ll accept that. I’ll even accept that you’re telling the truth about why you’re here today. I would like to know, however, why Makoto felt the need to accept alcohol from you in the first place.”

Any confidence Hagakure had instantly shrivelled up. “Oh. Well, you see, client confidentiality is a big thing in my business. Nobody’s going to want me to tell their future if they know I tell everyone what they see. Some of that stuff’s real private.”

All she did was clear her throat. Hagakure fell silent and took on a hunted-animal expression –

Did he . . .?

Did he actually _push her?_

If there was one thing she could credit Hope’s Peak for, it was that they had never laid a hurtful hand on her. It was strange as she had only worked that case for about a month, but she had come to take that for granted. Thus, when his palms smashed into her, she didn’t understand what was happening. She didn’t realize she had been pushed until she hit the ground. And Hagakure was off, sleeves flapping behind him as he ran.

“Hagakure-kun, stop!”

Kirigiri was in shape. She had to be, as the sort of detective she was. Unfortunately, if she knew one thing about Hagakure, it was that he was regularly chased out of establishments, chased by officers (especially by Ishimaru, who took offense to everything about Hagakure), chased by those he scammed . . . The point was that he had expertise in chases. Which also meant he was very practiced at getting away. He didn’t jump the fence in front of her so much as he hopped over. By the time she could investigate the yard, he had hopped another fence and vanished from sight.

She sighed. It was harmless. Hagakure was indeed jumpy enough to panic over something like this. He had never said anything about belonging to Hope’s Peak before, and members of the church wore their status with pride, so she was fairly comfortable that he wasn’t involved with them. The question now was why had Naegi asked for the whisky in the first place.

She had a theory, fortunately, but its implications were not good. For it was common, was it not, for traumatized individuals to turn to drink. She couldn’t think of anything terrible that Naegi had _recently_ endured, but there was that mess with the confessional near the beginning of the case. Perhaps now, now that he knew he didn’t have to return to the church, he was finally facing those memories. That theory fit with the current situation.

But it still didn’t explain the blood.

She wanted to say it was a nose bleed, she wanted so _badly_ , but Naegi wouldn’t hide the evidence if the situation were that innocent. Whatever it was, he didn’t want her to know and she couldn’t mean anything good.

 _Does Tanaka-kun engage in blood magic?_ she wondered, staring at the roof. The thought made her own blood boil. If Tanaka was seriously bleeding him while she was right here and available, she’d skin him alive herself.

“Kyoko?”

She heard the tremor in Naegi’s voice. He was standing in the doorway, watching her with wide eyes. He must have spotted her outside, just standing there looking into space. She couldn’t blame him for how he looked at her. How could she after what she had recently confessed to him?

“I’m fine. It’s me,” she said, turning around to face him.

Naegi didn’t budge. “How do I know that?”

A fair question. She came across the answer by chance. As she shifted and tried to think of something, a weight around her neck also shifted. She remembered what was there and pulled out the rosary.

“You’re wearing it?” Naegi said.

“Tanaka-kun said it would protect me.”

Naegi didn’t come closer, but he no longer stood as if he was guarding the house, as if he were staring down a charging bull. She walked up to him and laid her hand upon his cheek. He didn’t flinch away, but closed his eyes and leaned into it.

Naegi said, “You’re safe now, right? They can’t get you anymore.”

“I am. It’s over.” His eyes opened at that, and she read the uncertainty there. She said smoothly, “We’re not going back there. Next time we speak to them, we’ll either be testifying in court or stuck in front of them in line at the supermarket. The trail is cold. The case is over. I can’t solve it.”

Her ancestors would have cried out in dismay. Her grandfather would have adopted a cold contempt. She should have been disgusted at herself. To voluntarily give up a case, not because there were no clues, but because one was overwhelmed, was treason of the highest order. But she only felt free, like a tiger who had been caged for life in basement and suddenly been released outside. As she basked in that feeling she, for the first time, felt a bit of sympathy for her father. Had he felt like this when he rejected his family and shed the burdens of a Kirigiri?

But while she never felt better, Naegi clearly had. His lips were thin, eyes sharp and watchful as he peered over her shoulder and scanned the area behind her.

“Makoto.” She grabbed his chin and made him look at her. “It’s going to be alright. You know I’ll protect you.”

He was silent. Gently, but firmly, he pulled her hands off his face. He turned, making room for her to pass him, quietly asking her to come inside where it was safe. Very well. If that would make him feel better.

She’d only been inside for a minute when her phone rang. She started the motions to pick the call up, but stopped when she saw the number on the caller ID.

“Kyoko?” Naegi, seeing her pause, had already assumed the worst.

“It’s fine,” she said. “I’m just surprised. I wasn’t prepared to get this call right now.”

She picked up and walked into another room. She listened quietly to the person speak, answering when she had to. The two came to an arrangement and then she hung up. Her muscles loosened; she hadn’t noticed them tense.

“Is everything okay?” Naegi asked when she was within sight again.

“It is,” she said. “I have to go out for a bit.”

“Again?” he said.

“Just to a café,” she said quickly, unsure whether he thought she would sneak off to Hope’s Peak again. “I’m meeting someone there. I’ll only be gone for an hour or two.”

“Can’t they come here?” Naegi said. “We have coffee and tea.”

“I don’t . . .” Her fist clenched. “I don’t want him in my house.”

Naegi studied her. “Who was on the phone?”

At this point, she couldn’t really keep it hidden. “My father.”

Naegi said nothing, but the way he puffed up, the way he tried _so hard_ not to smile told everything. He assumed that after this life-changing horror of an investigation, she had gained a new appreciation for what she had. That after being harried by unknown forces and surviving so many dangerous situations, she had taken a second look at her general dislike for others. That she had finally let bygones be bygones and had decided to give her father a chance.

He would be wrong.

Naegi would have gotten those ideas from anime and cutesy stories, but this was no fairy-tale. Kirigiri had much more important reasons for meeting with her father, reasons that were so private that Naegi didn’t need to know – might be _safer_ not knowing – about them. But he knew none of that and so, when she put on her coat and prepared to set out, he wished her good luck cheerfully.

Although the scenario he was picturing was wrong, she took his words to heart anyways. She would need them.

She stepped outside. It would be the first step in finally confronting her past.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big bombshells heading your way.
> 
> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri confronts the past.
> 
> More Q&A!
> 
> 1\. Does Lovecraftian horror exist in this universe?  
> The cosmic horror genre does, but the Lovecraft mythos (Cthulhu and such) do not.
> 
> 2\. Why did Togami have an x over him on that picture in the catacombs?  
> It was a conversation with the Elders about Togami. The 'X' was basically the Elder saying "Ignore him. He's unimportant."


	42. Chapter 42

As far as omens went, the weather was a good one. A pale sun drifted through the sky, its fierce rays tempered by puffy silver-white clouds. There was a small breeze that picked up from time to time, nudging her braids and threatening to make strands of hair poke inside her mouth.

She’d chosen a café to meet Jin at, one in an area she knew was busy and with outdoor tables and plenty of people walking by. Taxis came down this street often, too, in case she needed to make a quick escape. If Jin were up to something malevolent, hopefully the sheer number of people around would dissuade him.

He had gotten there before her and had already chosen a table. He raised a hand, waved at her, and she immediately had to convince herself it wasn’t a trap. She couldn’t help it; she didn’t trust him. Why would she, when his past actions had given no indication that he cared for her? In an ideal world, she simply wouldn’t have met with him today. But this was not her choice to make. Apart from her grandfather and her, Jin was the only living Kirigiri. Which meant that if her grandfather wouldn’t talk, he was the only one who could answer her, the only one who could help her.

“Kyoko.” Jin seemed to struggle with the urge to add an honorific.

“Kirigiri,” she said coldly. He blinked, and she realized she needed to elaborate. “You will call me Kirigiri.”

(Part of her hoped that stung, because she was the only _true_ Kirigiri at this table.)

“I see.” Jin raised his cup. “Would you like tea?”

“I’ll pass. I’m not here to eat.”

She had said that, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to start the conversation and the silence lingered. Part of her was content to stay in this ignorant bubble, to simply not ask and prevent things from getting worse than they were. She knew it was a ridiculous temptation, and yet it held her tongue hostage. She could only put on her fiercest look and cross her arms, pretending that she hadn’t chickened out.

“I wasn’t sure whether you would show up,” Jin said.

“I was the one who asked for this meaning,” she pointed out.

“That didn’t mean you wouldn’t change your mind. I wouldn’t blame you.” He said those words, spoke about this serious subject, and he did it _nonchalantly_. She didn’t know whether to be offended.

“I can’t afford to.,” Kirigiri said. “Did you look over the names I sent you?”

“Yes. If you don’t mind me saying, I’m honoured you did. I know how hard it is to pry information out of a Kirigiri –”

“Don’t!” she said sharply. In her mind, she slammed her fist on the table. “For your information, the only reason I gave you any information was that I had no other choice. Nothing more.”

Jin nodded, fingers drumming against his cup. “We’re going straight to business, then. . . I’m sorry, I wore too many layers today. Let’s move inside into one of those darker corners before I die of overheating.”

“We can stay here. Where we have company,” she countered.

“I would love to do that, but,” his eyes sharpened, “I think we need the privacy.”

There were people inside. Nothing would happen. He knew that too, which only meant one thing: he had information for her. She hoped it wasn’t something she already knew, like the case with Yonaga or Ikusaba.

They moved inside, tucking themselves into the booth in the quietest corner of the café. Jin took his dear sweet time stirring his tea, as if by padding this meeting out for as long as possible, he would win a prize.

“You recognized one of the names I gave you, didn’t you?” she prompted.

“I did,” he answered, still stirring his tea. “Komaeda Nagito, to be exact.”

 _Finally._ She swallowed back her own wolfish grin. No use in scaring the prey away until she speared it on her claws.

Jin spoke. “I know you want me to jump into it, but let an old man ramble for a minute.” (He wasn’t even that old!) “I may have abandoned our family legacy, but I was a Kirigiri-in-training once. I still have friends in the detective business willing to do a little digging for me, and I haven’t lost too many of the skills I trained. Sometimes, there’s a case or a person that catches my eye, and I decide to take a closer look.”

Huh. She had expected a sappy speech on how he was her father and he was very proud of her. Some nonsense like that.

“Where are you going with this?” she asked.

His lips twitched, as if wanted to smile but couldn’t. “I was hoping that if I said that, you might understand why I have this file.”

With that, he finally handed something over. It was a file folder, like the ones she and her grandfather used for their cases. A familiar, excited flutter rang through her body as she reached –

. . .

“What is this?” she demanded. Her whole body was stiff, limbs locked into place, preventing her from grabbing that folder.

“I know I wasn’t there for you, but you understand, don’t you? You were still my daughter, and the people you took interest in were the people I took interest in.”

“This . . .” She swallowed. Looking at this file felt wrong somehow, like a betrayal of trust. “This is about Makoto’s father. You said you this was about Komaeda Nagito.”

Jin gestured at the folder. “Read it and see.”

She knew what would wait her when she opened it: the missing person’s case of Naegi Ohori. (How did he find it when she hadn’t?) Ohori had disappeared eighteen years ago. According to the case file, Ohori had disappeared after. . . after. . .

She read the sentence again. Again. It couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be right.

“Everything in that file is true,” Jin said.

And hoarsely, Kirigiri finished the sentence aloud. “. . . after attempting to kill his son, Naegi Makoto.”

He nodded. “Makoto was a minor, so all names were withheld. I only found out this existed because I know someone who had worked on the case. You didn’t know about this, did you?”

“Makoto said his father abandoned them.” Her throat was so dry she could barely speak.

“I wouldn’t be too surprised,” Jin said. “He was very young when that happened. It’s unlikely he remembers the truth.”

“You don’t forget the times you nearly died.”

“Kyo . . . Kirigiri, you’re a detective,” Jin chided lightly. “You of all people should know how fragile memory is. Make something up, claim it happened enough times, and suddenly everyone remembers it happening right in front of him.”

“What about his mother? I can understand the emotional reasoning behind not telling Makoto about this, but if she truly loved him, she would have warned him in case his father returned. It would be irresponsible to do otherwise.”

“Not if she knew he was dead,” Jin said. “She was certain of that when I spoke to her.”

“You . . .” She decided not to comment on hi, speaking to Naegi’s mother. She scanned the page. “I don’t see anything here about him being dead.”

“Intuition. That’s what she told me.” Jin added, “He did try to kill a child. We both know the police wouldn’t be too keen on pursuing his murderer.”

In a way, she wished she had never discovered this. Now the burden of truth-telling fell onto her. This almost exhausted her to the point where she wanted to call it a day, crawl into bed and snuggle with a certain someone who was clearly still alive. But she had to see this through. She still had to find out what Jin knew about Komaeda Nagito.

 She said that, and Jin told her to turn the page.

She didn’t want to continue. She could hear the gears of her mind clicking, ready to render the words she saw into a bright picture that would burn behind her eyes. For the next page focused not on Ohori’s disappearance, but the events he had been involved in just prior: Naegi’s near-murder. Ohori had taken Naegi out of the house, as he did everyday. At some point he led Naegi into an alleyway, where he attacked and attempted to strangle him. (See video evidence, the file claimed.) Around half a minute into the assault, a passerby intervened, fought Ohori off and alerted authorities. The intervener’s –

( _No._

 _Please, no_.)

The intervener’s name was Komaeda Nagito.

She stared. Beneath that sentence, beneath that _name_ , there was a picture.

Jin said, “That is how I know that name. I don’t know if it’s the same person, however. But . . .”

“It is,” she said. “That’s him. But . . . how is this possible? I’ve seen Komaeda. He looks like this.”

“. . . Which means they are the same person?” Jin said, confused.

“You’re not listening. He looks _exactly_ like this.” She pushed the pictured toward him, jabbing her finger into the photographed Komaeda’s eye. “He looks like this age. But this photo was taken nearly twenty years ago. How can he still look like this?”

Jin said, “You’re right. People can’t go twenty years without aging.”

Yet even as he agreed with her, she no longer agreed with herself. Jin’s words struck a tone within her. And suddenly, she understood. She realized that every time she tried to understand Komaeda, she did so with the same premise, under the same flawed assumption:

She had assumed Komaeda was human.

Suddenly, everything made too much sense.

_“It was night,” Enoshima said dully. “ **Humans** need sleep, don’t they?”_

_“Adorable!” Komaeda laughed. “ **Humans** like him have the funniest insults . . .”_

Not human.

They were never human.

There was a second picture in the folder, and she looked at it. It was a still from a security camera that showed Naegi and Komaeda after the latter had chased Naegi’s father away. Komaeda was staring down at his arms, where he cradled an unconscious Naegi. Was that the trigger? Is that when Komaeda’s interest had been stoked? Or had Komaeda interfered in the first place because he had _already_ been watching Naegi?

“Thank you,” she said reflexively to Jin. “I have what I need. I’ll be going now.”

“Already?” Jin said as she started to stand. “Has it even been ten minutes?”

His plead was obvious. She could have ripped him apart with words alone, but he had given her something useful. She would be merciful. “You didn’t expect this to be a happy reunion, did you? Circumstances forced this meeting between us, nothing more. You made your choice years ago.”

It seemed like Jin would let her go. But after she put on her jacket, as she began to turn away, he spoke up. “I didn’t want to.”

“I beg your pardon,” she said, humouring him.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” he said, voice cracking. “I had no choice.”

“No choice. Really? That’s your excuse. I thought you would have put a little effort into it.” She spat that out, but there was no real venom. She didn’t care about this. She didn’t care about him.

He looked down at the table. “What do you know about the day I left?”

“All I need to,” she said. “You were a coward who decided the life of a detective was too much work. You decided raising a daughter was too much work.”

“So, that’s what he told you.” Something dangerous lay under there, like spikes hidden under a layer of ice.

“As I said, grandfather told me everything I need to know. _Goodbye_.”

“. . . What do you know about your hands?”

She stopped. Glanced down at her gloves. How . . .? That wasn’t common knowledge. Although he had admitted snooping in her life with the help of her detective buddies. It was conceivable that one of them may have known about her injuries and passed it on to Jin.

“Who told you?” she demanded.

“Nobody,” he said. “I was there.”

“I didn’t know you worked that case,” she said.

But Jin slowly shook his head. “It had nothing to do with a case.”

 _Bullshit,_ she wanted to say. She didn’t. For if Hope’s Peak had taught her anything, it was that she was wrong about everything. So, instead, she sat down. Her hands curled into fists on her lap. She said, “Then tell me.”

“Before I do, there’s some things I need to explain about your grandfather and me.” Jin stared at his reflection in his coffee cup. It must have been lukewarm by now. “Your grandfather and his father before him had always been obsessed with the Kirigiri legacy. As a I child, I was in the same position as you: training to be the next Kirigiri, to be the greatest detective the world had ever seen. But it never sat right with me. I couldn’t understand why Fuhito revered it so much. I kept at it because it was expected of me, and I was good at it. But around the time I came of age, something changed. When I thought of my future as another Kirigiri detective, the deepest dread haunted me. I felt like I was betraying myself, betraying the world. Finally, I gathered the courage I needed to sit Fuhito down and tell him that I wasn’t going to become another detective. I was going to find a new path.”

“Just how old are you?” she asked aloud. None of this was making sense. “I was a child when you denied him and ran away. You said you turned your back on our legacy around when you just reached adulthood, which means when I was born, you couldn’t have been over . . .”

“Let me finish. It will make sense,” Jin said, raising his hand to gesture her to stop. “When I told your grandfather that I would not become a detective, he threw me out of the house and disowned me. It was hard, but eventually I found carved out a space for myself in the world. Somewhere along the way, I met a wonderful woman and we married. Eventually, we had a daughter together.”

“This . . .” She rubbed her brow. “I don’t understand this timeline at all. You decided not to become a detective and left me when I was five. How does what you’re saying fit with that?”

“It doesn’t.” He leaned closer. The detective in her recognized that as a classic sign that valuable information was coming and reacted accordingly. “Which means there’s only one conclusion to make: one of these stories is a lie.”

“He wouldn’t lie to me,” she said instantly. “Grandfather was there for me when you weren’t. Grandfather supported me when I needed someone at my back. You’re not stupid. You can’t possibly believe I would trust you over him.”

He was silent for a long time.

“I’m not going to try to convince you I’m the one telling the truth,” he said finally. “I don’t need to. I just need you to _listen_. Even if you don’t believe me, I need to tell you.”

“Fine. Talk.”

 “. . . Two years after you were born, Fuhito called me. He said he wanted me to come home.” Jin shifted in his seat, as if the very memory made him uncomfortable. “I thought that old age had finally hit its mark. I had hoped that seeing all the other grandparents with their grandchildren and families had finally crushed that wall he built. I had even hoped that the little updates on you I kept sending him, even though he never responded, had broken him.

“When we met, he said he was happy to see me. I _thought_ he was happy to see me. He was _delighted_ when he saw you though.” Jin wiped at his eye. “I supposed the easiest clues to miss are the ones in front of you. The truth is Fuhito didn’t call because he missed me. He only cared about you.

“He came over more and more. I allowed it – I encouraged it. Your mother warned me it was too fast and something wasn’t right, but I wanted to make up for lost time. I couldn’t even get upset when he began teaching you the way of the Kirigiri detectives, because you _loved_ it.

“But a year in, everything went wrong. Your mother became very sick and had to be hospitalized. I spent as much time with her as I could. . . But you had school, you were just a child and we didn’t want you see her suffer. It made so much sense at the time to let you stay with your grandfather. I never suspected what was happening behind my back.”

“Which was?” she prompted.

“That every time I turned my back and left you with him, he saw another opportunity to turn us against each other.”

“And that’s it?” she said, still not very sympathetic. “Grandfather made me ‘difficult’ to handle, so you decided it was too much effort?”

“No,” he said. “A short while after your mother died, I came home and your grandfather was there in the living room with you. He told me we needed to talk.”

This was it then. This was the climax of the story. She told him to proceed.

“. . . He told me it was time for me to leave, that I had abandoned my heritage and thus, had no right to you.”

“You do realize what kind of light this is portraying you in, correct?” she asked. “You’re suggesting you’re a person who would abandon his blood family because someone told him to.”

“That wasn’t why!” he nearly shouted. “Of course, I didn’t listen to him. I told him he was insane. But then he looked at you and nodded, and you . . . you. . .”

“Yes?” Now, even she was tensing up.

“You walked over to the fireplace. And you stuck your hands in the fire.”

It came back in a flash: screaming; the sound of crackling flesh; the _smell_. Terror seized her heart and crushed it tight. Her hands had no feeling, but under her gloves they itched and ached.

“You stared at me the entire time,” Jin said, his gaze hollow and distant. “There was nothing there. It was like I was looking into the eyes of a corpse.

( _“It was like you were a different person.”_ )

“Fuhito told me that if I didn’t want this – _you_ – to go any further, I would leave and never look for you.”

“You’re lying. You must be. I know this isn’t true!” Her voice cracked. Her brain was spinning at a hundred miles an hour, its usual chains of logic flying out and snagging blocks they usually ignored. “Of course. That’s why you suddenly showed up now. You’re working with them to turn me against my grandfather!”

“You know that’s not true,” he said.

“Then why are you here?” she shouted. “Why did you choose to appear now?”

He said, “Your friend called me.”

“My . . . Togami Byakuya? Is that who you’re referring to?” she asked, unable to think of anyone else.

“No. Sahaira Shuichi,” he said to her shock. “He was very concerned about your behaviour and. . . I became very concerned too after listening.”

“Sahaira-kun?” Was this a betrayal? Or was it a blessing disguised as one, just as it had been when Naegi told Togami to take her off the case?

“It’s okay if don’t believe a word I said,” Jin told her. “As long as you know.”

( _“But you’re Kirigiri Kyoko, aren’t you?” Yonaga asked. “Then you do.”_ )

She didn’t thank him. She didn’t say goodbye or promise to keep in contact. She sat there. And then she stood up and ran away. Customers stared as she shoved her way through the door and threw herself into the open door of a taxi cab, muscling past its former passenger who had still been getting out.

“Drive,” she said to the cabbie. “Go!”

Her order was fierce enough that he stomped on the pedal even without a destination. Her vision was blurring at the bottom. What, was she going blind now, too? She couldn’t deal with this. She couldn’t –

Something wet fell onto her arm.

She touched her face. Oh. Her eyes were just full of tears. It was . . . funny. She remembered herself at a younger age, declaring that she would never ever cry because of her father.

She laughed.

( _She cried and cried and cried_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Who was Hinata Hajime?


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you didn't read the comments last chapter and missed it, I just want to mention that Jin/Fuhito/Kyoko backstory from last chapter is very close to what happened in canon.

Home couldn’t come soon enough. The sigil on their door, once thought to be a mark of Hope’s Peak hold over them, soothed her like a mother’s touch. Inside that shelter, there would be no burning of hands. Not unless Hope’s Peak set the entire house on fire, but that was a normal, _mortal_ danger. One they could fight. She took the first step toward the house, and nearly slipped as the friction under her heel gave way. She looked down.

She wrinkled her nose. She followed the red trail and found its source on the front lawn. Gross. A cat or fox must have torn that rabbit apart. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but animals would arrive before long and take the pieces away.

She heard Naegi in the shower when she walked inside. It was nice, easy confirmation that he was home and _safe_. She smiled up at the ceiling, hoping he would sense it.

Her phone rang. She picked up.

“Togami-kun,” she said. “Is this about the tip I gave you?”

“Where are you?”

“At home,” she said, confused.

“Is Naegi there, too? Are you both well?”

“Yes,” she said. Though she hadn’t personally seen Naegi yet. . . “Why are you asking me this? What happened?”

“I looked into Hinata Hajime’s missing person case. You’ll want to sit down for this.”

No one said those words without pairing them with horrible news. She moved upstairs and sat on the bed, so that she was within easy reach of Naegi.

Togami spoke. “I’ll start by saying this: it was a pain to get any information from the force in that city. I had to badger the chief over and over, and Kuzuryu wasn’t stonewalling me on purpose either. He’d forgotten that person was missing. Everyone there seemed to have completely forgotten about this case, even though it happened merely a few months ago.”

“That isn’t too alarming,” Kirigiri said. “There’s new cases every day. It’s reasonable for some to fall off the radar.”

“No, it is _not_ reasonable. Hinata Hajime was a cop.”

That changed everything. Everyone in the justice system belonged to a brotherhood. They worked together, fought together, and fiercely protected their own. They didn’t just _forget_ a disappearance like that. No, they brought in the dogs, went after everyone in reach until they discovered what had happened to their missing brother. They wouldn’t forget.

“The trail went cold,” Togami said. “The only evidence they found didn’t point to foul play; they were letters very reminiscent of the one you found in Nanami Chiaki’s apartment. Given the circumstances, I thought it best not to inform them we had found Hinata.”

“There’s no witness testimonies?” Kirigiri asked. “Did anyone see him leave?”

“No. He simply vanished. There’s something else, but you need to answer this first: Has Hope’s Peak attempted to make any sort of contact with you?”

“No . . .” That was her original answer, but then she glanced at the bathroom door. “Not that I’m aware of. I haven’t asked Makoto.”

“Find out now.”

She knocked on the door. The shower turned off. Shortly after, with a towel wrapped around his waist, Naegi opened the door a little. The burst of steam she expected never appeared.

“Has Hope’s Peak contacted you since we last saw them?”

“Hope’s Peak? No, they haven’t tried to reach me.” Naegi eyed the cellphone glued to her ear. “Why?”

“I’ll tell you after. You can finish your shower.” She glanced at the towel around his waist, wondering why he bothered.

Naegi looked like he had a million questions, but he closed the door.

“I’ll presume you heard that,” she said to Togami as she walked back to the bed. “Why are you concerned about this?”

“While I was at the other station, I managed to find someone who remembered their last conversation with Hinata. Kirigiri, before he disappeared, Hinata told this person that he was trying to find information about a place called Hope’s Peak.”

And the hammer had dropped. An officer of the law. An investigation into a mysterious church.

And now what?

( _A crunch as Kamukura’s bite broke bone._ )

“Now you must understand why I asked you that,” Togami said.

“Yes,” she whispered. But what was the connection? Why this Hinata? Why _them_? Was Komaeda attracted to ahoges or something? And just exactly who – _what_ – was Kamukura Izuru?

“A DNA comparison could confirm Kamukura and Hinata are–”

“ _NO!_ ” Her heart slammed into her ribcage, nearly shattering a couple of bones. “I am not going back there! You can get that DNA sample if you must, but I will not be participating.”

“I wouldn’t go to Hope’s Peak,” Togami said. “I’d get him to come down to the station.”

“I don’t care. If you want a DNA sample, get it yourself.” What was Togami suggesting? That she should pluck a hair from his head and antagonize him? That she should stick her fingers in that sharp-toothed mouth and swab him?

“I’m not going to make you get a DNA sample from him. However, if I do persuade him to come down to the station, you need to be there to listen to the interrogation.”

“Togami-kun, I’m not on this case,” she protested weakly, knowing what he would say.

“That doesn’t matter. Kirigiri, whatever happened to Hinata Hajime has very clear parallels to whatever’s going on with you. You need to be there.”

“. . . Fine.” She hugged herself. If nothing more, she had to do it for Naegi’s sake. To protect him. “Have you searched his apartment?”

“No, not yet.” He waited, knowing the dilemma that awaited her.

Should she ask to accompany him? It wouldn’t be going back to Hope’s Peak, that much was true. But it did mean returning to this case, to getting close to them, even if only in spirit. It was impossible to know how Kamukura and Komaeda would react, even if they had been human. Likewise, she couldn’t say if they would find out, or what traps may await her. But on the other hand, Hinata Hajime had lived there and he might have been like her and Naegi once. If they could find clues about what had happened to him, then perhaps she and Naegi could protect themselves.

“I’ll call you back,” she said. “I need to discuss this with Makoto.”

When Naegi came out of the bathroom, the first thing he did was ask about the call. She told him everything that she had discussed with Togami and laid out the current conundrum. She wouldn’t repeat her mistakes and leave him out of this.

“It’s not dangerous, right?” Naegi said. “In that case, I don’t think it would hurt.”

“It could be dangerous,” she corrected. “What if they find out? They could react poorly and seek revenge.”

“I guess. Do you really think they’ll find out though? Tanaka-kun said you’re okay now, right? Neither of us would tell them, and I don’t think they pay much attention to Togami-kun.”

Ah, she saw the problem. Naegi was under the same false assumption she had been. She fixed that quickly and while he didn’t take it well, he accepted it without too much protest. It was yet another grim reminder of everything they had experienced.

“If that’s the case, you shouldn’t go,” Naegi said. “It’s too dangerous. Have you told Togami-kun about this?”

“He wouldn’t believe us.”

“We should still try. I could call him. He might believe it if it comes from me since he thinks you’re . . .”

“Crazy?” she finished for him. “It’s fine. I know. I understand my behaviour during that investigation was erratic at best.”

“I wasn’t going to say it,” Naegi mumbled. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

He had to ask, didn’t he? The words of that case file flashed before her. Was there? Did he need to know? Was it better to believe you had been abandoned, or know your parental figure had tried to murder you? Just how much was Naegi over his father?

. . . No, she finally decided. The only real reason to tell him was if she feared Naegi’s father would return to finish the job. However, based upon what she knew . . .

( _A picture of a white-haired man cradling an unconscious child. The intervener’s name was Komaeda Nagito._ )

. . . Naegi’s father was certainly dead.

* * *

How could she sleep tonight? How could she sleep knowing what she knew, knowing what fate may await them? She laid in bed until Naegi succumbed to sleep, and then snuck downstairs to find a weapon. She returned to bed, stashing the knife in the nightstand drawer, and then crawled under the covers with every intent on waiting out the night. The darkness outside the window spoke of secrets and creeping danger, until she couldn’t take it anymore and left bed once again to shut the blinds.

She held her head in her hands. She needed to get herself together. Paranoia wouldn’t help here. it would only keep her up at night, sap her strength and leave her weak and defenceless for when the real threat came. Not wanting to wake Naegi, she retreated to the connected washroom where she could turn on the lights and bask in them. This house was safe, she reminded herself. Tanaka had made sure of that.

When she heard the sound from the other room, she thought it was fate proving her wrong. But she heard it again, louder, and realized it was Naegi. Specifically, it was Naegi in the throes of a nightmare. Surprisingly, despite their persistence, it was rare for her to be awake when he had one. Though she had seen them often enough to know what awaited her.

He always made for a pitiful sight like this. Something in his genetic makeup made him express pain in a way that broke anyone’s heart. He always made high-pitched whining sounds as he curled up and brought his knees close to protect his vulnerable organs. Sometimes, he would stretch out, but it always looked painful and he would curl up again afterwards. And even while he was asleep like this, he always made the most pathetic facial expressions, like a puppy who had been expecting a treat, only to watch his owner devour it instead before his eyes.

She shook him. “Makoto, wake up.”

He keened, kicking and bumping the blanket off his chest. Technically, she should let him be, but she could never bring herself to leave him like this.

“Makoto,” she said again, louder. Sometimes, speaking sternly was enough to invade his dreams, to make him sit right up because ‘Oh no, Kyoko’s mad at me!’ This time, however, it wasn’t working. She shook harder . . .

And swore as Naegi’s arm flew up and walloped her across the chin. That was the other problem with Naegi’s nightmares. He was unconscious, which meant he had no obligation to be his usual, harmless self.

She crawled on top of him. Sure, it would freak him out once he woke up, but it might mean she wouldn’t have to walk into work later with bruises. She tucked her knees in gently against his arms, pinning them, then set to _lightly_ cuffing him about the head. That didn’t work either and only turned his exhales into weird huffs.

“Makoto, come on!” she said, cursing for not brushing up on her strategy for waking after realizing he was having nightmares again. She grabbed his face as he began to writhe, wondering if she should pinch the fleshy –

“ _Argh!_ ”

She reeled back with a cry. Had that . . . did that just happen? Had she been that careless? How utterly humiliating! This was just further proof she was off her game.

On the bright side, her shout had roused Naegi from his nightmare. He was sitting halfway up, slowly licking his teeth. She wiped her arm, cursed again, and turned to address him.

“You may need to clean up in the washroom,” she said.

“Kyoko?” Dazed, he watched her. He smacked his lips. “Why is there . . .? Kyoko?”

He rushed after her as she walked into the washroom, as she knew he would. Wide-eyed, he watched her place her bleeding arm under the running faucet. Just as he watched her, she studied him. Good. None of her blood seemed to have gotten on him.

“What happened?” he demanded.

She told him the truth. “You were having a nightmare and I stuck my arm in your mouth.”

“. . . Why would you do that?”

“Obviously it wasn’t on purpose!” she said, scandalized he would think otherwise. “You’ve never witnessed yourself in a nightmare. When you thrash around, you move _quickly_.”

“I bit you,” he concluded, still sounding confused. “So, that stuff I tasted when I woke up. . .”

“My blood,” she said casually. She watched him closely. “Do you need to throw up?”

“. . . I’m not sure,” he said. Oh, he was looking rather pale. She moved aside and waved him toward the toilet, patting his back as he passed.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she said sympathetically as she scoured the cabinet behind the mirror for disinfectant. “You were asleep. You didn’t do it on purpose. Even if you swallowed some, it’s not that disgusting if you think about; we are a species that regularly drinks the breast milk of an unrelated mammal.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

She looked at him. He was kneeling by the toilet, but he didn’t look like he was going to throw up. Likely, their recent trials were making him take this harder than he otherwise would have.

“Do you want my forgiveness? Is that what you need to hear?” She knelt just behind his shoulder, laid her head upon it and wrapped her arms around him. “Very well. I _might_ forgive you if I get an apology kiss.”

Naegi was silent. Damn. In her mind, that had been irresistibly romantic.

Apparently, it had been, because Naegi quickly turned his head and pecked her cheek. She nuzzled deeper into his neck, close enough that she could smell his oddly lacking body heat.

“That’s it? You possibly scar me for life and that’s all I get in return. It’s almost like you don’t want to be forgiven.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t be.”

She knew him well enough to know this was about much more than a bite. She just didn’t understand what. _She_ was the one who should be repeatedly apologizing to him. It wasn’t him who had disobeyed orders and gotten them stranded at a church inhabited by an inhuman, murderous cult.

“Forgiveness is in the eye of the beholder, isn’t it?” Her arm slid down his, until she could reach his hand and entangle their fingers together. “It’s fine, Makoto. I’ve taken bites from you before.”

He coughed and went a little red.

She was certain he wasn’t going to throw up anymore. Pointedly, she slammed the toilet lid shut. The bang echoed.

“Come on,” she said, tugging on his arm. “The floor’s cold. I’ll warm you up.”

He let her guide him to his feet, watching her with more confusion than should have been allowed considering how obvious her hints were. They stood there, staring deep into each other’s eyes. Naegi blinked.

Looks like she would have to take the lead again. She stretched like a cat, laying her hands around the back of his neck as she did so, slyly reeling him in. The corner of her lip quirked. She knew how this play went, how each of the actors needed to move, and her head tilted automatically as her eyelids slid closed and she descended. . .

Naegi stepped out of her grasp. “Not now.”

A vein in her temple throbbed. “We don’t have to go into work tomorrow. We have time. It doesn’t have to be that long if you don’t want it to be.”

“Kyoko . . .” He put a hand on her chest to try to push her away. She merely wrapped her fingers around it.

“We got out. We’re done with that place. Don’t you think we should have ourselves a celebration?”

He tried to step out of her reach again, but smacked into the bathroom wall. She closed the distance between them, gently pinning him there, legs almost intertwining.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered. “I miss what it was like before we heard of Hope’s Peak.”

His mouth was open, the hot, humid air of his exhales snaking down her shirt. She ran her tongue around the shell of his ear, ignoring how he said her name in protest. Her fantasies were alive and buzzing under her skin, filling her mind of pictures of what could be and would be –

Until Naegi shoved her away.

“I said not now!” he snapped at her.

Kirigiri stood there in silence, confused and cold. Naegi dragged his hand through his hair.

“I’m going to bed.” The way he said that made it clear that it wasn’t an innuendo or an invitation, but the exact opposite. Eyes cat downward, defensively drawing into himself, Naegi walked past her and out of the washroom.

She watched his retreating back.

She didn’t expect it to hurt so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: 
> 
> Kirigiri gets trolled
> 
> Q&A:  
> 1\. Is grandpa kiri in with the eldritch gods?  
> \- It is safe to say by this point that Fuhito is not on Kyoko's side.
> 
> 2\. Did naegi really figure out that kiri burned her own hands? and if so, did he figure out the context for why?  
>  \- No. At this point in time, Naegi had made contact with Tanaka who had mentioned he thought Kirigiri was compromised. Between Kirigiri's reaction to the sigil and the fact she couldn't remember something as traumatic as that, he took it as evidence Tanaka was right.
> 
> 3\. Is Kirigiri Jin involved with Hope's Peak?  
> \- No.
> 
> 4\. How did Chihiro die?  
> \- It's a common trait of Eldritchs and things revolving around them break the minds of mortal. Remember a long time ago how Komaeda was talking about how people who see things they aren't meant to sometimes die? Specifically, he said _" Or it messes with the physiology of their brains and they perish."_ That's what happened.


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ya'll might have saw in the comments, I am confirming that the next story I will be working on after this one is the sequel to The Lion's Den. I spent a good few hours making the utterly crucial decision of what chapter naming theme to use this time. After much consideration, the winner is....
> 
> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> Psych! It's in the chapter endnotes, not the beginning ones ;p

If there was one thing Kirigiri was good at it, it was compartmentalizing. She had to be. She dealt with people during the worst days of their life, and regularly coached witnesses through the morbid art of reliving their darkest and most desperate hours. She had thrown out entire outfits reeking of death and decay, and scrubbed boots clean of blood because she didn’t feel like replacing yet _another_ pair. Indeed, compartmentalizing was a job requirement for a detective that even Naegi heeded. Then as a Kirigiri, as a great detective, she was a master of that skill as well.

That is why she faced Naegi without distress in the morning, for even Naegi was not an exception from that dire power. She remembered last night’s rejection, but merely packed it up, and filed it away with the other strange things she had noticed around him. Naegi himself was resorting to his second-most used strategy: avoiding the subject. It was inevitable because she doubted his most-used strategy – apologizing – seemed viable to him at the moment.

Naegi patrolled the territory, prowling around the edges of the house and peeking out the windows. She let him be.so long as he stayed inside, she wasn’t too worried about his safety. Thus, when she heard the front door open, she snapped to attention. Immediately, she was on her way, intent on checking what Naegi was up to.

By the time she arrived, the door was closed again. In his hands, Naegi held a large package.

“I saw it on the driveway,” he said.

“Does it say who sent it?” she asked, reaching for it.

He surrendered it to her. “No.”

“Keep your distance,” she said.

She brought the package into the kitchen where she laid it on the table. She doubted it was anything lethal – how anticlimactic would that be? – but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. The package had a fair weight to it and when she tipped it sideways, the weight shifted. She locked eyes with Naegi, and then peeled away the outside wrapping. Inside was a box. She tore the tape off the seam and peeled it open –

She sprung back in abrupt panic. Her foot caught in the chair leg, and sent her crumbling to the ground where she cussed loudly.

“Kyoko!” Naegi rushed forward, skidding to a stop between her and the table. He stood sideways, staring at the package . . .

Where he jumped in surprise and then blinked rapidly, making sure what he saw was real.

“. . . Is that one of those fish they like to eat?” he said, perplexed.

She swore again. Those utter bastards!

“If they didn’t leave that as some weird form of harassment, this would actually be pretty funny,” Naegi said blandly.

Kirigiri climbed to her feet and dusted herself. Obviously, that package was meant for her. Who else would react to that?

“Uh, I’ll toss it out if you want?” Naegi gingerly reached over and pinched the tip of its tail. He slowly lifted it, nose crinkling. “It’s smelly.”

“Throw it out,” she said, still furious.

“It’s not that bad,” he said in a transparent attempt at comfort. “It’s just a dumb prank.”

“They know where we live!” she said.

“Well, yeah.”

“You knew?” she asked. Was he serious? For some reason, he didn’t think that was worth teling. . .

“I didn’t _know_ ,” he snapped back. “I just assumed they did because Komaeda’s a creep.”

Fair enough. She still had to unclench her fist one finger at a time.

“Asahina-san called me earlier,” Naegi said, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I think we’re going to visit Ishimaru-kun.”

“Why wasn’t I invited?” She asked out of habit even as she figured out the answer herself. “I was there when Owada-kun died. Additionally, I was somehow involved with Fujisaki-kun’s death.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t think it’s your fault,” Naegi tried.

“I know,” she said. “However, it’s probably best he doesn’t see me right now. Go ahead.”

“Thanks for understanding. I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

It bothered her to see him go, but she knew that no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t lock him in the house forever. She comforted herself by remembering he was wearing the rosary. She wasn’t sure, but she also thought she saw Tanaka drop off the roof and follow him. She convinced herself that was so, just so she can start breathing again.

Her phone had one unread text, but it wasn’t from Naegi. She skimmed it, then dialed the sender’s number and waited.

“Hello, Kirigiri,” Togami said, not sounding surprised. In the background, she heard the chatter of a radio show.

“You’re following the lead, then?” She swallowed. “You’re going to Hinata’s apartment.”

“Someone has to. Did you change your mind about assisting me? I’m just about to leave,” he said.

“Not at all. I just . . . I wanted to know. Please try to be careful.”

“Do you have anything useful to say?”

“If you do find anything . . .” She stopped. She glanced at the rosary around her neck, remembering why it was there. “You should tell Makoto, first.”

“Alright,” he said easily. “Now if you’ll excuse me, while I can handle something as mindless as talking on the phone and driving, certain people might get upset if they see me right now.”

She brushed her hair away from her face. “I’ll be sure not to tell Makoto you were talking and driving.”

So that was that. Togami was investigating Hinata’s place. She prayed it was another dead end, that he didn’t find anything, lest he bring in Kamukura for an interview and she had to attend.

Was that what she wanted? For Togami to fail? She didn’t know. So many branching paths shimmered in front of her and as far she could see, they all led to disaster.

She wasted the next hour and a half cleaning, feeling like an housewife longing for her husband to return home. She swore she could smell that stupid fish wherever she went. She ended up taking the entire trash can and ditching it at the curb. That killed her motivation to clean, and she sat alone with her thoughts. The first solid conclusion she had was that she should tell Naegi about Togami. If something were to happen to Togami. . . Given what Kirigiri knew about herself, she wasn’t comfortable with her being the only person to know his last whereabouts.

Naegi picked on the second ring. Once he turned down whatever song was playing in the background, she started to get into the topic. Then she had an even better idea.

“Hold on.” She opened her three-way calling and rang Togami. Let the chief explain himself; if it came from his lips, Naegi would freak out less.

“Is something wrong?” Togami asked sharply. As before, his radio was playing in the background.

“No, everything’s fine on this end. However, I thought we should bring Makoto up to speed.”

There was a pause from both.

“Uh, sure!” Naegi said brightly. “I guess you could.”

“Kirigiri, I’ve already told him and I have no intention of repeating myself. Why must you waste my time like this?”

Oh. She shouldn’t be too surprised. This was big news and it wasn’t like Naegi and Togami had never spoken behind her back before. . .

Focus. Naegi had been right to do that.

The silence was awkward. Only the radio continued to speak. It was a little odd, actually, how synced the two stations were . . . the same volume . . .

“Makoto, can you do me a favour?” she asked, a horrible suspicion rising in her.

“Sure, what?”

“Change the radio station.”

“Is there a point to this?” Togami said.

“Yes. Makoto, change it.”

“I . . . Sorry, I can’t.”

“Yes, I know that.” Her phone shuddered under her grip as she hissed, “Togami-kun, what is he doing in your car?”

No response. The sound of a guilty party.

“You are going to turn around now,” she said. “You’ll bring Makoto back here and . . . Makoto, I’ll deal with you when you get home.”

“I’ve been driving for over an hour,” Togami complained. “There is no way I’m going to drive all the way back there, then drive back here. It’s not like I dragged him here kicking and screaming. He volunteered.”

“I’m really sorry! Seriously! I just didn’t want to worry you,” Naegi said plaintively. “But if this thing with Hinata is really the same, then one of us has to be there. Togami-kun didn’t see what we saw.”

“That is an idiotic reason,” she said. “Get back here. _Now!_ ”

Togami said, “Seeing that the cat is out of the bag, I see no reason to continue this conversation. I’ll call you when we have results.”

Togami hung up. If she yelled, he would have heard her through Naegi’s cellphone, but she didn’t bother. It wasn’t like Togami cared.

“Makoto, get out of that car and call a cab.” (“Just hang up,” Togami was saying in the background.)

“Kyoko, you know this is important. If this turns out to have an answer for us. . . I need to be here.”

Before she could say anything, she heard Naegi and Togami scuffle. Presumably, Togami won that fight because her phone suddenly beeped with an ended call and no one picked up when she called back.

She was going to have both their heads when they returned.

Not doing anything detective-related was no longer an option, so she retired to her desk and retraced the steps of her online search for Hinata. She absorbed everything she could, but wasn’t so engrossed that when her phone beeped, she didn’t snatch it up. A text message. Probably from Naegi to inform her they were at their destination. She opened it.

It wasn’t from Naegi.

It wasn’t just a text from an unknown number. There was a picture attached: Naegi and Togami sitting in a car at a red light. The picture looked like it had been taken from the sidewalk next to them.

But that didn’t bother her. That award belonged to the text accompanying the image:

_I think your assistant is cheating on you :)_

Her fingers moved without her conscious command, as did her lips when the person on the other end picked up.

“I need help.”

* * *

She had been outside for twenty minutes, pacing back and forth, by the time Oogami pulled up. She was so eager to get into the passenger seat that she pulled three times at the door handle without realizing Oogami needed to unlock it.

She passed Oogami a slip of paper with the address. “That’s where they’re going. I wish you brought a police car. We would be faster.”

“I cannot use the station’s vehicles for that reason. You know this.”

“I . . .” She swallowed her first choice of words. Oogami was not trying to pick a fight. “My apologies. I’m on edge.”

“I understand. It is Naegi-kun.” As they backed out of the driveway, Oogami said, “You said he may be in danger. What threat are you facing?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “But there is definitely the potential for real danger.”

Oogami sighed. Their car puttered in place in the middle of the street.

“Is something wrong?” Kirigiri asked. “The road is clear.”

“Forgive me. I know you and Togami-kun treasure your privacy, but I can no longer remain silent. I understand that you and Togami-kun will never share everything with us, but these recent events. . . You two know more than you are telling us, and I can no longer accept that.”

“It doesn’t involve you,” she said flatly. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“And yet I am here. I must also point out that Owada-kun didn’t appear to be involved either.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be, but he shoved himself in,” she said. She twisted the hem of her skirt, needing to occupy her hands. “He made himself involved.”

“Kirigiri-san, it is my job to protect the civilians of this city and my friends. To protect _you_. But I cannot perform my duty while I remain blind to what hunts us.”

“You don’t understand,” Kirigiri said. “They died _because_ they knew. They saw too much and it destroyed them. If you don’t wish to walk that path, then you will stop asking questions immediately.”

“They?”

That was sloppy. She flipped her hair. “If you do not wish to assist me, please inform me so I can find someone else.”

Oogami heaved another great sigh. “I will help you. But Kirigiri-san, are you aware of the rumours circulating among the others?”

“What is it this time?”

“They say. . .”  Oogami hesitated. “That you are unwell.”

“As you can see, I am perfectly fine. Now, if you’re finished asking questions, can you please put the car in drive?”

Oogami wasn’t much of a small talker, just like her. Just as she liked it. Kirigiri kept her eyes on the sidewalk, as if expecting to see Naegi and Togami skipping down it. She knew from his text that Naegi and Togami had been at Hinata’s apartment for quite some time now, more than long enough for anyone else to drop by and do who-knew-what.

They were out of one city and en-route to the next, driving along seaside cliffs where the roads had long, gentle bends. The ocean waves, white-tipped with froth, sloshed back and forth. She cast her eyes to the sky, where long-winged seabirds drifted lazily on the wind.

“How is the search for Owada-kun?” she asked, mostly out of obligation.

“Have you not heard? Togami-kun has ended it. There are those, of course, who have not given up, but he has made it clear he will not support their efforts.”

“What do you think of that?”

Carefully, Oogami said, “I think it is very unusual behaviour.”

It was a timid request for information. She ignored it. She kept her eyes peel on the road, watching the cars in the opposite lane . . .

“There!” She grabbed the steering wheel, but somehow resisted the urge to _yank_. “That was them!”

She checked her phone. No messages. So, they had decided not to call her they were finished, after all. Why? Was Togami planning to drag Naegi into something else? She’d prove just how much Togami had underestimated her drive, then.

They cut across the median, shaking in their seats as the engine whined in its efforts position them behind Togami’s car. She was sure it was them now, because Naegi had whipped around in his seat to stare at them in shock through the back window. Kirigiri ordered Oogami to drive up beside them. With all her might, she glowered at Togami as their windows grew ever closer.

“More,” she said to Oogami.

“That would not be safe,” Oogami protested. “At this range and speed, we could collide.”

“We won’t,” she said. “Togami-kun’s going to pull over. Get closer.”

Oogami did slowly. Kirigiri never broke eye contact with Togami as she did. She could see his anger in the sharp line of his jaw, his determination to stare ahead and pretend she wasn’t there.

“Closer.”

“Kirigiri-san, I must –”

“ _Closer_.”

Togami wasn’t looking at them, but he knew they were getting closer. She could tell. Kirigiri envisioned herself reaching over, magically phasing through the glass window and dragging Togami out by his scruff. That daydream shattered abruptly when Togami veered off-road. His car glided to a stop and waited.

Togami was out of the car by the time they parked behind him. He leaned against its front door, casually writing in a notepad.

“Let’s see. One count of reckless driving, Harassment. I’m _sure_ I can make a case for uttering threats,” Togami thought aloud.

“I am very sorry,” Oogami said.

But Kirigiri had no time for games. “Where is he?”

Why did she bother asking? She could see him. Naegi wasn’t stupid; he was already getting out of the car, hands raised as if he were a surrendering criminal. She grabbed him as soon as she could, twisting his wrist to the point where it was nearly painful, forcing him to walk in front of as she forced him to. . . Right. She couldn’t toss him in the car because she _didn’t have a car anymore!_

“I can’t believe you,” Kirigiri hissed at Togami, needing someone to vent at.

“It’s not like he told me he was doing this behind your back until you called.” Togami sniffed and fixed his glasses. “Whatever relationship problems you two are having is none of my concern.”

“Kyoko, nothing happened!” Naegi said. “We barely found anything either. Just – _urk!_ ”

She had unintentionally twisted his wrist a little too much. She loosened her grip, and his skin slid against her glove as he rotated his arm to its proper position.

“And what were you planning to do with this evidence?” she asked Naegi. “Burn it?”

“I was going to call you,” Naegi cried, “But Togami-kun said he wasn’t in the mood to hear you yelling. The most useful things were found were some letters like the ones we found in Nanami’s apartment. I put them in the backseat. You can take a look. Really!”

“Get in the car.” Fine. She’d check out the letters. She’d take them with her, read them on the way home and give him the silent treatment. He wanted to play games with Togami behind her back? Well, then he’d better . . . Was Togami _laughing_?

“You can’t blame me,” he said in response to her look. “It’s funny you’re the way complaining about being deceived when you’re the only untrustworthy person here.”

“Togami-kun, what do you mean?” Oogami asked.

Togami sneered. “Don’t worry about it.”

Despite his words, Togami made no move to stop her from reaching his car. She could see evidence, mostly pictures, piled up there – who knew how much of it would actually be useful? The letters were sticking out from beneath a pile of pictures of the apartment, and she climbed into the back seat to grab them. After a second’s thought, she grabbed the pictures and looked over them, too. Basic apartment. Unlike Nanami’s though, it seemed empty, like Hinata knew he wasn’t coming back. Or it was just the framing. She wouldn’t know since she hadn’t been there. Togami had some pictures of the outside too. A regular apartment building. Though she thought she had seen it somewhere before . . .

She shook her head. It didn’t matter. She was never going to set foot in that place. She glanced back at the others. They were at Oogami’s car, and it looked like Naegi was trying to intercede in an argument between the other two. She turned back to the evidence, quickly making sure there was nothing else she wanted.

And as she finished up, her gaze strayed out through the glass and beyond the car, down the grassy field by the cliff side, to a piece of land protruding over the waves where someone watched her.

Was that Komaeda Nagito?

From this distance, it was impossible to make out fine details, but she knew he was smiling at her. He raised his hand to wave. Was it a greeting or farewell? She didn’t care.

Not until the car shook.

Papers went sliding everywhere. Her fingers dug into the shoulder of the driver’s seat. Though she had instinctively closed the back door behind her, she could still hear the others yelling at her. She turned and saw Naegi and Oogami running at her, Naegi wide-eyed and frightened –

The car lurched again, front tipping up, sending her flying against the backseat.

The world roared as the cliff underneath gave way. The car plunged. She was weightless, suspended between the ceiling and floor, bound to neither.

And the floor came rushing up and it all went black.

Primal instinct moved her head when water tickled her nose. She looked without seeing, pulling her limp and bruised body onto the leather seats. A sharp pain had erupted behind her eyes, branching out like an exploding firework. She laid there as the car rocked violently from side to side. She could sloshing and waves crashing and she . . . her clothes were wet.

She looked out the back window.

All she saw was water.

She simply stared, her throbbing brain unable to grasp the implications. She lazily reached for the door handle, pushed, but the door wouldn’t open. Ah, too much pressure on the outside. Because the cliff had given away and . . . and she was underwater.

That was bad. Something in her mind that still functioned correctly told her that, but most of her didn’t react. She was too numb, her body having shut off its senses in response to the physical trauma. She wasn’t afraid. Not even annoyed. Her emotions were more of a dispatched curiosity as she turned the facts over and understood she was in a sinking car.

 _I’m going to die_.

The words came and went without any impact. She couldn’t muster up the energy to think. The world was swaying and she didn’t know whether that was from the waves pounding on the car, or if was her own imagination.

A swarm of white bubbles appeared outside in the water, surrounding a dark mass that had dropped in from above. Suddenly, _he_ was there, pounding at the glass, tugging at the door handle. A stream of bubbles escaped his mouth as he screamed.

“Makoto.” She reached for him.

He was pawing at the glass now, trying to dig through with his claws. The world outside was growing darker as the car sunk further and further, dragging them down with it. The water level inside the car was midway between the floor and the seat she rested upon.

She laid her hand on the glass. That stopped his frantic grappling with the door for a moment and they locked eyes.

Slowly, she shook her head.

In the corner of her eyes, she spotted a crack flash across the back window. Naegi was shaking his head. He slammed his fist against the glass.

“Go,” she whispered to him, still strangely calm.

There was so much more that she wanted to say, that she needed to say, but she no longer had the strength. Her head flopped down; her arm fell and her hand rested in the water. She made one more feeble attempt at speech and finally gave into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> ( _Embrace your future, or lose what you have _)__
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _... The the winner for the chapter naming theme is: Poetry! So if you know any fancy poem names, please let me know!_  
>  _


	45. Chapter 45

A bright white light greeted her.

It took some time of staring, of that slow, steady, heartbeat-like throbbing behind her eyes to realize she wasn’t staring into the afterlife. Not unless the place you went to after death had a discoloured white ceiling and a bed whose mattress was thick and blocky. The blanket’s weight across her shoulders seemed to hold her down, to whisper that she should return to sleep. That wasn’t an option. Her eyes opened and she forced herself to sit upright, feeling stronger than she had expected.

“You’re awake.”

Togami’s voice rumbled to the accompaniment of a heart monitor’s beeps. (Good, it was beating strong.) She dully glanced at the wires attaching her to it, then at Togami, who sat close to her bed.

“I’m alive,” she said. Her memories were a bit fuzzy, but she remembered enough. She remembered falling, closing her eyes with the knowledge she would drown.

( _She remembered Komaeda_.)

“Yes, you are. You really shouldn’t be, but you are.”

She slowly moved her hand in front of her face, verifying this was her body.

Togami shifted in his chair. “Normally, this would be the time where I tell how stupid you had acted, but I can’t find much fault with your actions this time. As I’m sure you’ve figured out, we are in a hospital. You escaped with surprisingly minor injuries – mostly scratches I’m guessing were a consequence of Naegi’s actions. I took the liberty of updating Naegi’s knowledge of concussion.”

Naegi. She remembered that, too.

“Where is he?” There was no point in maintaining her mask; the heart monitor betrayed everything.

“He’s fine,” Togami said. “He left to get coffee – he’s going to be upset when he realizes you woke up while he was gone. I’m not going to lie to you, though. There was a time where the doctors were very concerned. They brought him in with a dangerously low body temperature and had a hell of a time getting it up again.”

She nodded, relief flowing through her veins like blood. “What happened? How did he fall in? Was he too close to the car when the cliff collapsed?”

Togami cleared his throat. He craned his neck, checking that no one was listening in the doorway.

Togami said, “Try not to have a heart attack; you did just spend an ungodly amount of time unconscious, after all. Naegi didn’t quite fall in like you did. He jumped.”

“What?”

“When we got to the edge and saw my car sinking with you under the water, Naegi decided the best, foolproof course of action was to jump in after you.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I thought it was incredibly stupid, too. But, I underestimated him yet again.” Togami shook his head, as if remembering for the first time. “Not only did he manage to drag himself out of the water and onto a rock in the middle of the water, but he managed to drag you all the way there, too.”

“He did that?” she said. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Togami, but she remembered Naegi helplessly beating at the window.

“He did. They found him curled around your body, protecting you from the waves. Apparently, he was out of it and bit one of them when they reached him. I suppose hypothermia had set in by then. They also thought he had some serious injuries on his neck, but that turned out to be a trick of the light.”

She touched her cheek. “He saved my life.”

“Without a doubt. You should be dead. _He_ should be dead. I don’t know if you looked at the ocean before you fell in, but that was no swimming pool. I wasn’t even sure if Naegi knew how to swim.” Togami fixed his gaze at a spot on the wall, looking mildly troubled. “I was convinced I had watched you two die. When the rescue helicopter arrived, I had informed them that they would be searching for bodies. Yet, here you are. Thanks for making me look like a fool.”

 _I’m glad I was wrong,_ was what he couldn’t bring himself to say. She wouldn’t hold that against him. He was here, wasn’t he? That was more than he would usually do.

“Kyoko?”

And there went Naegi’s coffee. She was half-surprised Naegi didn’t slip in the puddle when he scuttled towards her, taking a running jump into her bed. He sobbed her name, burrowing into her side with his face smashed into the crook of her neck.

Truth be told, despite her best efforts to avoid the place, this wasn’t the first time she had woken up in a hospital. It was a cost of her career. This was, however, the first time where Naegi had undeniably been the only thing between her and the grave. Not that she had ever doubted him, but she knew he always worried about being weaker than her.

 “You almost died,” he whimpered.

There was no way around it. “Yes. But you saved me. I should buy you a treat on the way home.”

“Don’t say it like that,” he grumbled. “It’s not something to joke about. Are you feeling okay?”

“Bruised, but it’s nothing. What about you? You still feel cold,” she said seriously as she rested her forearm against the back of his neck.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “There was nothing wrong with me.”

“Everyone is going to disagree with you about that,” Togami said. “Nevertheless, as long as that concussion heals up, the doctors believe there will be no lingering effects. Don’t take too long to recover because you two have been missing a _ridiculous_ amount of work.”

“She’ll take as long as she wants!” Naegi snapped at him. Togami startled and stared at him, as if Naegi had grown an extra head.

“Whatever,” Togami sniffed. “At least, for once, this had nothing to do with that damn church.”

The words slammed into Kirigiri’s heart like a bullet. She kept quiet. If she told them she thought Komaeda Nagito had brought down that cliff, they’d write her off as crazy. Naegi _might_ believe her, but what could he do? Try to retaliate? It would be a disaster.

“I’ll take it that all the evidence was lost,” she said. Maybe that, and not killing her, had been the primary purpose of that event.

“Not everything. There was one piece of evidence I was personally holding on to, due to how damning it was.” Togami reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a photograph. The glossy surface gleamed as he held it out to her.

It was a picture of Hinata Hajime. With Nanami Chiaki.

“It’s a guaranteed warrant. I’ll have Kamukura Izuru in a holding room within the next few days.” Togami tipped his head at her. “They say you’ll be discharged by that time.”

She pulled the blanket closer. “Togami-kun, are you sure you want to do this?”

“I finally have something solid on them. They’re not scaring me away that easy.”

She closed her eyes. “Very well.”

He didn’t seem pleased with her lack of enthusiasm. Togami turned to Naegi instead, but Naegi was ignoring him, content to snuggle up to her and steal as much of her body heat as he could.

“By the way,” Togami said, “as per protocol, I have informed your families. Although Komaru cried the entire call, so I’m not sure if she heard the part where I said you were still alive. Do expect your mother and sister to visit, however.”

“Togami-kun!” Naegi hissed. He looked at Kirigiri worriedly.

“. . . Jin would have known he wasn’t welcome,” was all she said.

“Fuhito was probably on a case and didn’t want to be disturbed,” Naegi offered. She wondered if that was true.

“Well, you two may feel like gossiping the entire day, but some of us have actual work to do,” Togami said, making his way toward the door. “Specifically, they have a warrant to fill out and a judge to meet. Naegi, do us all a favour and keep that luck of yours under control; I want you two to actually go home this time.”

* * *

As Togami had implied, the doctors were worried about concussions. They keep her for observation, but once the holding time passed and she failed to display any symptoms, they let her go home. Naegi stayed with her every step of the way, trailing at her heel.

Home. Where it was safe. Where there was no falling off cliffs or possessions of bodies. She walked inside and slid into the first chair she found. She had spent most of her hospital time lying in bed, but this was the first time she was getting _rest_. Naegi stuck around long enough to make sure she was well, and then announced he was going to take a shower.

She heard him walk upstairs. Shortly after, another set of footsteps stopped at a spot behind her.

“What happened?” Tanaka asked.

She blinked. “I have no problem with your presence, but I would still like you to knock if you are going to come inside.”

“You two were absent again,” Tanaka said, “yet nothing in the world has changed.”

“It was a hospital this time,” she said, “not Hope’s Peak. Although, I . . . I think Komaeda was the one who threw me off the cliff.”

“I understand.” Tanaka grunted with approval. “You witnessed some dire ritual of the deep and interceded. Komaeda, overcome with a bloody rage, then cast you into the maw of the beast! But through wit and determination, you clawed your way up its gory throat until at least, you emerged again like a– “

“I didn’t do anything to provoke him,” she said. “I looked up, he waved at me, and then the ground under me collapsed and I fell into the ocean.”

“. . . A secret, underground ocean?”

“No. The normal ocean. No, I don’t know why. It did destroy some evidence Togami-kun had on Hinata Hajime, but Komaeda could have gotten rid of it before I got in the car.” Her head rested in her hands. “What do they want from us?”

“I don’t know enough about their movements to say.”

“They chased my father away when I was young,” she said weakly. “I think they killed Naegi’s father, too.”

“Isolation is a deadly weapon,” Tanaka said. “It is an instrument of control.”

“They. . . If everything I’ve heard is true, they are the reasons my hands are like this.” She rubbed the back of them, let her fingers glide over the side of her hand. “All my life, I thought it was my fault. I thought I had made a mistake and done this to myself. Apparently, it wasn’t my fault at all. And Grandfather knew.”

“It is the burden of mortal humans,” Tanaka said. “You perceive so little in your natural state. How could you divine the lies from the truth?”

“And what are you if you are not one of us mortal humans?” she asked.

“A knight,” he grunted. He offered no more.

Fine. She wasn’t going to push him. She wouldn’t antagonize him when it was his magic keeping them safe.

“Your sigil on our door burned me,” she remarked. “I thought it had, at least. It was an hallucination.”

“The sigil burned you?” Tanaka echoed.

“Yes.” She tilted her head to one side. “You didn’t expect that.”

“That sigil is meant to devour unseen influences. It is a shepherd guiding his flock away from the beasts of the night.”

“What are those unseen influences?”

“Urges that do not come from within . . . Naegi said that you would better understand the word ‘possession.”

“Yes.” She looked down at her hands, thinking. “Tanaka-kun, if I had manufactured memories or missing ones due to these unseen influences, would that sigil do anything?”

“In that passive form you see? No.”

 _Passive_ . . . “And what it is wasn’t? What happens if it was stimulated somehow?”

“It is feasible,” Tanaka said carefully. “I do not think it would affect a falsely constructed memory. However, if a memory were inaccessible due to the touch of the Deep Ones, then perhaps it would erode that blockage.”

“The truth of how my hands were burnt may be one of those inaccessible memories,” she said. “When I tried to remove the sigil by hand, it made me hallucinate that they were burnt again.”

“I understand your proposition. However, if you did see the truth, what do you propose to do with that knowledge?” Tanaka asked. “Why should I lend you my blessing?

She set her jaw. “You need information to understand why they’re stalking us. I need information to understand how to defeat them.”

“This is powerful magic you seek to tame,” Tanaka said. “Even I, companion of the Dark Devas, cannot predict their reaction.”

“But it could work.”

He nodded.

“I don’t want Makoto there,” she said immediately. “He said he was taking a shower, but I don’t hear any water. Wait me for at the door. I’ll see if I can distract him.”

Naegi wasn’t taking a shower, but the door to their bedroom washroom was open a crack and light was spilling out. She could hear water splashing, though not the patter from an active showerhead.

She stepped inside. “Makoto –”

And yelped as her foot immediately skidded across the ground. She almost hit the floor, only saved by grabbing the edge of the sink to support herself. What in the world? Why was all this water on the floor?

As she asked herself that, Naegi emerged from where he had submerged himself in the bathtub. He shook himself like a great beast, splattering even more water onto the tiled floor.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. She had no problem with him taking a bath, but he was making a huge mess. “You do realize you’re going to be the one cleaning that up, right?”

Naegi glanced at her before sticking his head under the water.

“. . . Fine.” She watched him warily. He had very suspiciously sucked in a mouthful of water and was holding it in his cheeks, waiting for her to get close. “Do as you will, but don’t expect me to clean up after you.”

On the bright side, that should keep Naegi busy. She met Tanaka as she had promised at the front door. The white sigil looked so ordinary, so harmless. To think she had missed the entire world of magic behind this. . . What else in her life had she overlooked?

“Let’s do this.” She leveraged the paint chipper against a section of the sigil.

“What are you doing?” Tanaka asked.

“This is how I did it last time,” she said.

“You . . .!” A vein pulsed in his temple. He was shaking his fist at her, face coloured as if he were about to have an outburst. You blithering fool! That is not the proper way to invoke these magics. You were privileged not to explode!”

“It’s not like this came with an instruction manual,” she said, although she did lower the chipper. “How do you propose we go about this?”

“Lay your hand in its center. Your _bare_ hand,” he clarified when she started to obey.

He couldn’t have known what he was asking of her. He was demanding she bare herself to him, expose her naked humiliation to his scrutiny. Her skin itched at the thought. Those scars were her shame, her failure.

Or, if Jin had been correct, they were her collar.

The glove’s fabric seemed to cling to her skin as she tugged, as if begging her to reconsider. Mottled skin greeted the world, and she swore Tanaka did a double-take. The sigil’s whiteness lay stark compared to her charred flesh as she pressed her palm against its center. A moment later, Tanaka laid his hand on her arm.

She remembered it faintly: the red lines that had shone under his skin before she and Naegi had fallen unconscious. Now, she had a much better view of them. They started at the shoulder, creeping down his arms until they traced out the very tips of his nails. The lines circled and chased each other, forming symbols and marks, some of which she recognized, some she did not. His fingers tips glowed pure red and it may have been her imagination, but heat radiated from them into her.

“It would be best if you closed your eyes,” Tanaka said.

She did. It felt dangerous, but she had no choice. Hair rose on her arms, bristling as if she was about to be struck by lightning. In blazing red, the sigils seemed to etch themselves into the darkness behind her eyelids.

“I cannot promise that this will work.” Tanaka’s voice came from everywhere. “And if it does, I cannot promise what you would see, or if you would be better for seeing it. I cannot promise you will come out of this alive. The universe is a hellscape where the blind flourish.”

“I already said I’ll do it. There’s no need for dramatics.”

Tanaka said nothing, but she knew he heard her, for an electric shock suddenly ran up her arm. It slammed into her spine, flowing down it like lava and melting her feet to the ground. It wasn’t quite a headache she had, but a similar presence; a similar pressure. It felt like her mind was growing somehow, cracking the confines of her skull like an egg and reaching out –

And she _saw_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri begins to understand the impact the Deep Ones had on her life.


	46. Chapter 46

Kirigiri didn’t have many strong memories of this place, but she still knew this house. This was the house she had lived in with her father back in a time brimming with innocence and betrayal. Though she could distinguish enough to know it was her old home, the details around her were blurry. She wondered if that reflected the decay of memories, even of suppressed ones.

The front door opened. She shouldn’t be here, she wasn’t supposed to be this old yet, but that didn’t bother her. This was the past, which meant nothing she did mattered. Sure enough, Kirigiri Jin walked in the door and slipped off his jacket without a glance in her direction. He looked remarkably like the present-day him she had met at the café, but there were signs of a younger age. Less wrinkles surrounded his eyes and he walked a little straighter, a little stronger.

Jin started to walk into the living room, but stopped in the threshold. She passed through him and peered inside. Yes, she understood. Jin said her grandfather had started babysitting her after her mother fell ill. Hence, her grandfather’s presence in the house couldn’t be unusual. The way he stood in the middle of the room and stared straight into Jin’s eyes, however? Yes, she could see why Jin had paused.

But if it wasn’t Fuhito’s behaviour that gave Jin pause, there was another option: herself. For she, the younger she, was there. She sat in the middle of the couch with the same ribbons in her hair and a pink bow on her white, buttoned-up shirt. (Had she been that formal even then?) Her skirt lay smoothly over her lap, her hands neatly placed upon it. She stared straight ahead. At nothing. There was no light within those eyes. They were like . . . like . . .

( _A corpse._ )

“Hello,” Jin said carefully, watching her younger self. “Was everything alright today?”

“Of course,” Fuhito said. “This is Kyoko I’m watching, not the neighbour’s hellion.”

Jin nodded. “Kyoko, how was your day?”

Her younger self did not react to his question, nor to his presence. Even though she knew she turned out fine afterwards, it disturbed her.

( _Then imagine how he must have felt_.)

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” Jin pressed.

Her grandfather’s jaw worked a little as he chewed on that thought. “There is something we need to discuss. You have a backpack in the front closet, correct?”

“Yes.” A faint hint of a smile appeared. “Should I look inside?”

“No,” Fuhito said. “You should fill it with the belongings you need to start a new life.”

All traces of a smile vanished. Yet Jin didn’t appear angry, merely confused.

“You stood before me once and renounced your ties to the Kirigiri line,” Fuhito said. “I warned you that action was irrevocable. It is time for you to leave. We have no further use for you.”

“You’re still upset over that.” Jin sounded calm, but one of his hands balled into a fist. “I thought you had come to your senses.”

“My senses?” Fuhito raised his eyebrows. “There was only one logical choice to make. You spurned it.”

“This is my house,” Jin said. “If you want to disown me again, _you_ leave.”

“It’s not that simple,” Fuhito said. “This case is going to go differently. You are going to leave. You will take what you need and leave this city. The police will conclude that you left of your own free will.”

“Get out,” Jin said. “Kyoko, I want you to go up to your room for a while.”

Her younger self continued to ignore him. At this time, her relationship with her father had already been strained, and that must have been why Jin looked annoyed, but not frightened. He took a step towards her younger self, only for Fuhito to stick his cane (sword) in his way.

“That’s close enough,” Fuhito said.

“She’s my daughter,” Jin said as the first traces of real rage seeped into his tone. “She . . .”

“You gave up your claim to the Kirigiri line,” Fuhito said. “You renounced _all_ ties to our family.”

“She is _my_ daughter!”

“But it is our ancestor’s blood that runs through her veins,” Fuhito said and that calmness and the way he barely acknowledged Jin’s words reminded her of a certain damn pastor. “She is my heir. She will be the next Kirigiri.”

Jin’s physique made it clear that he was not a weak man. Yet, when he shoved Fuhito, the elderly man didn’t move. Jin stared at him, as if trying to figure out what had happened.

Then, the younger her moved.

She stood in one clean motion, like a robot. With that same mechanical movement, her head turned to look at the two men. Those eyes were dull, reflecting what they saw without comprehending it.

“Kyoko,” her grandfather said, eyes on Jin, “show your father what you think of him staying.”

Her younger self began to walk. The moment Kirigiri looked in the direction her younger self headed toward, she knew how this would end.

“No!” Although she knew this was but a memory, although she knew she couldn’t change anything, she still tried to grab her younger self, to stop her advance toward the smouldering fireplace. The flames crackled with a malevolent energy and lit up the underside of her chin with orange light.

The younger her stopped. Looked back.

“Go ahead,” Fuhito told her.

And as they all watched, she thrust her hands into the fire.

“ _KYOKO!_ ” This time, her father succeeded in pushing Fuhito aside. Despite the enmity she felt toward her biological father, she couldn’t help but cheer him in her head as he charged across the room and reached –

Jin flew the other way across the room, slamming into a bookcase, the back of which snapped under the force. A few books rained down on him as he landed in heap, drawing out a groan when one landed on his stomach.

What had that been? Fuhito hadn’t moved. She didn’t think he had, at least. But she couldn’t see anyone else.

She wasn’t sure what drew her attention back to her past self, but she turned all the way around to face her. Kirigiri had always remembered what her hands looked like after the fire, but she had never seen what happened to them _during_ the event. She didn’t need to see this. She didn’t need to know how her skin had crinkled like smouldering paper or see the hole that appeared in the skin layers, the hole that grew wider and wider with a black rim. Yet a horrified fascination seized her and she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“Kyoko!”

“It’s a shame it had to come to this,” Fuhito said. “They’ll still be usable. She’ll be able to fulfill her destiny.”

“St-stop!” Jin’s head smacked back against the bookcase again. “Stop it! Tell me what you want. Just stop her!”

Fuhito waved his hand and even though she couldn’t see him, her past self pulled her arms away from the fire.

“You are going to take what you need and leave,” Fuhito repeated. “It will look like you decided to abandon Kyoko. I will ensure the police never come after you for abandonment, and you will never go looking for her. Is this acceptable?”

“Acceptable? How could this be acceptable?” Jin began to rise. “You’re out of your –”

He stopped talking. She didn’t understand why until he fell to his knees, until she saw the depression around his throat. Somehow, Jin was being choked.

“One way or another, Kyoko is losing her father today. It is up to you to decide how.” Fuhito said as _something_ released Jin and he gasped. “I left your birth certificate and any other documentation you might need on your bed. Be gone within the hour.”

“Dad, please.” Jin was on his knees, tears dripping from his eyes. “She’s my daughter.”

Her past self stepped forward and looked Jin in the eye.

“Leave,” the young Kyoko said.

The scene froze. As she watched, it began to blur away, becoming nothing more than a kaleidoscope of colours.

_So, this is the truth. He was right._

 Jin hadn’t abandoned her. Fuhito chased him away. Her grandfather had . . . He must have known something was wrong with her. Is that why he got rid of Jin, out of some misguided attempt to protect him from her?

Or was her grandfather the real reason she was bound to these demons in the first place?

As she thought that over, she heard a new voice.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this to you of all people, but you need to stop letting your emotions cloud your judgement.”

The swirling vortex of colours settled, painting a scene of an adult, but still younger her in the police chief’s office. This must have been at least four years ago because Togami was not in the chair across the desk from her. Instead, his predecessor addressed her.

“I know that he’s a smart kid, but he’s too soft. This isn’t the place for him.”

“You wouldn’t be asking him to shoot anyone. You would be asking him to bring peace to grieving families.”

“Yes, and I can see why that would interest him, but before he could do that, he would have to bear the weight of dealing with the crimes,” the police chief said. “He will have to face those cases where children are abused and murdered by their parents. He’ll have to see those facts we don’t release to the public and those cases where the perpetrator gets away. There will be cases where we know who the culprit is, but we don’t have the evidence to convict them. I’m sorry, Kirigiri-san, but I don’t believe Naegi-kun can handle that pressure.”

“Makoto merely gives off the impression of softness,” her younger self insisted. “You greatly underestimate his mental fortitude.”

“I understand you are attached to him. . .”

“This has nothing to be with my emotional ties. The position is open, and Makoto is the only person suited for the task.”

“I’m not saying I won’t hire him,” the police chief said, exasperated. “The psychologists that interviewed him agree he would thrive as a special jurisdiction officer or as a general officer, but not as a detective.”

Her younger self’s face had been emotionless before. Now it was cold. “You _will_ hire him as a detective.”

The chief’s face darkened. “Watch your tone.”

“Don’t forget that this opening exists because I need someone to share my workload,” her younger self said. “I am telling you now that Makoto is the only partner I will accept.”

“You don’t get to make those calls,” the chief snapped.

Her past self said nothing. Did nothing. An uneasy shiver ran up Kirigiri’s spine. Was this it? Was this the moment the _thing_ controlling her actions would rear its head?

As it turned out, no.

“Very well,” her younger self said, turning toward the door. “I’ll give you my papers by the end of the week.”

“What are you talking about?” the chief asked warily.

“There are other cities whose departments would be willing to accommodate my request.” She brushed her hair behind her ear. “With my reputation, I expect to hear from them quickly. Goodbye.”

With that, her younger self walked toward the exit.

“Wait!” The chief slammed his fist against the table, but any anger there drained away quickly. He rubbed his brow, as if suffering from a headache. “Fine. I’ll give him a chance. Tell him he got the position.”

“Email the acceptance,” her younger self demanded. “Make it official.”

The clacking of his keyboard told her he was doing just that. Her younger self left his office and made her way back to her own desk. She sat at the desk with a robotic stiffness and turned her attention toward the cellphone on her desk, waiting, she realized, for Naegi ‘s call.

The scene faded out again in a wash of colours, giving Kirigiri time to reflect on this newest development.

_They forced Naegi into that position. I remember pushing for it, too. Or was that not me? Could it have been these Deep Ones all along, and that my brain simply assumed it was my doing?_

There was something else to conclude. This plot of Hope’s Peak, whatever it was, had been _years_ in the making.

Another scene took form. She saw herself creeping along the side-alley of a house. This version of her was younger than the one who had been in the police station; she estimated this was her teenage self. She watched her past self reach up toward a window, carefully push it open, and then pull a gun out of her pocket.

Her eyes widened. What was this? Whose house was it?

She got her answer a moment later.

“So, you’re going to do it?” Maizono Sayaka was saying. When Kirigiri walked through her younger self and peered in the window, she could see Maizono was on the phone. “You’re not going to chicken out again, are you? Remember what happened last time you tried to ask a girl out. . . Oh, don’t be like that. It was adorable!”

Kirigiri glanced at her younger self. She was still, simply listening.

“She likes you back, so I’m sure she’ll say yes. Yes, she does. Because I’m psychic. What do I think? If I’m going to be honest, I think she likes you a little _too_ much. No, I don’t think she’s crazy. It’s just odd how quickly she became attached to you, especially if Saihara-kun was telling the truth about what Kirigiri-san is usually like.”

Her past self tightened her grip on that gun.

“I don’t know. It feels odd, but I wouldn’t consider it a deal-breaker. If you like her, then go for it. I’ll support you.”

The moment Maizono agreed to support Naegi, all hostility drained from her past self. The younger her tucked the gun into her pocket, and then stood up and leisurely strolled away. Kirigiri looked through the window again. Maizono continued to chat away, unaware she had been one decision from death. Maizono had said once Kirigiri had threatened to kill her, but the actor had never known it wasn’t a bluff.

She waited for another scene to show itself, but it didn’t come. Instead, the world changed into a dark plane, pulsing black and purple. The swoops of purple in front of her felt like they were wriggling into her brain somehow. Then something yanked on her from behind and her body stayed put, but she was flying, flying higher and higher –

She gasped and opened her eyes. The sun was too bright and she closed them again.

“Is this Kirigiri I speak to?” Tanaka said.

She shielded her eyes as she rolled over to face him. When had she landed on the ground? When had her body become covered in sweat.

“Did something happen to me?” she asked.

“I do not sense anything foul,” Tanaka said.

“Then why I was pulled out?”

“Because I commanded it,” Tanaka said. “You were under that thrall long enough. Mortal minds were not meant to handle such things.”

“When can I do that again?” she asked as she got to her feet. “I did see visions that appeared to be lost memories, but I still don’t understand. They’ve only created more questions.”

“What did you see?” Tanaka asked.

She told him. She explained every detail she could remember, retraced every conversation as it happened. As she spoke, one of Tanaka’s hamsters waddled onto his shoulder, where it groomed itself between stints of watching her.

“. . . The worst thing is, I already knew most of what those memories revealed,” she said tiredly. “My father had explained what happened between him and my grandfather. Honestly, I would have preferred not to have seen that. I already knew I had threatened Makoto’s best friend  - though not to this extreme – because I feared she would interfere with our relationship. I knew that Hope’s Peak had planned this out. I suppose the only new information is that Hope’s Peak wanted Makoto to become my partner, but that says nothing about _why_. Ultimately, it’s useless.”

Tanaka was silent as he stared off to the side. He emitted a nobility, a wisdom.

“It is useless information, isn’t it?” she said, now unsure.

“. . . I told you he was cursed,” Tanaka mumbled.

“Yes, you did. You never explained that.”

“At the time, that answer was a mystery. Now, I think I know. I think I finally understand their plan.”

That had not been the answer she was expecting. She asked, “Then what is it?”

He took a long time to answer. “I need to leave. I need to think about this.”

He bunched his legs, as if to jump and soar into the sky. She barely managed to stop him by grabbing his sleeve.

“You can’t leave without telling me anything,” she said.

He looked at her solemnly. Then, he reached into his pocket. He took something out, and pressed it into her hand. When she looked at the object, she nearly dropped it.

“It was buried in your backyard,” he said.

Kirigiri turned the fish skull over.

By the time she looked up again, Tanaka was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Togami questions Kamukamu


	47. Chapter 47

It was only a matter of time before the call came. Kirigiri lay prone on the couch, eyes closed, as if it were possible to sleep. Togami had texted her an hour ago to let her know he had obtained the warrant needed to intern Kamukura. She wondered how their policework would backfire this time. Maybe Togami would be the newest casualty on the department’s list.

The stairs creaked. Naegi pattered down them. She hadn’t told him that Togami had obtained the warrant. She wasn’t sure if she should tell him before the call came. It would only cause unneeded worry.

His presence neared. The cushions shifted as he landed upon them.

“I hope you mopped the bathroom,” she muttered.

Naegi didn’t answer. His nose bumped into her neck as he inhaled sharply. Then, he was fitting his head under her chin, sprawling out across the upper part of her torso and claiming it for his own. If he wasn’t skin and bones, the weight would have been uncomfortable. His breathing slowed, telling her that he had decided now was a good time for a nap.

She groped for the blanket and pulled it over them. He must have been in that bathtub until the water cooled because he was draining heat from her. Certainly, his damp hair wasn’t helping matters.

 _Ring_.

And there was the call. Naegi made displeased noises. She reached for the phone on the nearby end table.

She wasn’t sure what happened, but the phone fell to the floor. As she moved to grab it, Naegi shifted, as if protesting. The fall had also declined Togami’s call. How tempting it was to let it be, but Togami knew she always had her phone on her at home. The last thing she needed on her plate was a pissed-off boss.

Naegi gave her an unimpressed look when he realized she wasn’t ignoring the call. He made swatting gestures at the phone like a cat, so she held it out of his reach.

Once Togami picked up, she launched into it. “How did it go?”

“Just as planned,” Togami said smugly. Unlike him, she didn’t think that was a good thing. “We’re returning to the station now. You _will_ be there.”

“I understand.” She couldn’t do it, but she had to do it.

She hung up shortly after. Laid her head against the armrest and breathed. She wasn’t sure if Naegi had detected her distress, but he moved his head so that his chin lay flat against her sternum and he could stare at her.

“Togami-kun’s bringing Kamukura-kun in for questioning,” she said flatly.

“Kamukura-kun.” It rattled her to hear the note of interest there. “Why?”

“You know why. You were there when Togami-kun found the evidence.”

His expression grew distant. She knew he was thinking not of his and Togami’s investigation, but of what had happened after. Pressure grew around her arm as he wrapped his fingers around it, as if he feared the ground would collapse again and take her away.

“Let’s go,” she told him.

* * *

The first thing she heard when they walked into the station was barking. A German shepherd puppy, not higher than her knee, strained at its leash as it barked at them. The barking grew higher, more frantic the closer they got.

“You here for the interrogation?” Asahina asked them. She barely seemed to notice the dog pulling at the leash she held.

The answer was obvious, so Kirigiri didn’t provide it. “What is that for?”

“We’re looking at training a new police dog since y’know, Chuck’s . . .” Asahina’s bubbliness melted away. She stared at the yapping dog sadly. “I think we’re going to try to assign her to Ishimaru-kun. He needs a new best friend.”

“I agree. This may be good for him.” Kirigiri bent down to offer the dog her hand, but before she got too close, a throaty growl rolled out of the puppy’s chest and made her reconsider.

“Sorry!” Asahina said. “She’s still in training. Well, she will be if she passes. She’s actually here for the aptitude test.”

“If this is how she reacts to stranger, I don’t believe she will pass.”

“She’s been fine with everyone else,” Asahina protested. “Did you eat bacon before you got here?”

No, although she had handled fishbones. She didn’t think that would be enough, however.

The puppy stopped barking. Slowly, it stepped backward, step by step, until it could hide behind Asahina’s legs. It licked its lips, tail between its legs and white of its eyes showing, demonstrating clear submission.

Mentally, Kirigiri sighed. She wasn’t that intimidating, was she? “We have to go. Togami-kun is waiting for us. Makoto, let’s move.”

She shook Naegi, snapping his attention back to the present, breaking the staring contest he was having with the puppy. The dog leapt forward again and barked.

It barked until they were out of sight and Kirigiri found herself hoping it would fail the test. She did not want to put up with that noise for the rest of her career. Thankfully, it was very quiet in the interrogation hall, save for the slap of Togami’s soles against the ground as he paced.

“There you are!” Togami said, as if he had expected Kirigiri to teleport to him after he had called. “He’s in there.”

With too much pride, Togami pointed at the one-way mirror. Kamukura – or was it Hinata? – sat at the table inside, nursing a cup of water. He didn’t look worried, just bored.

“How do you plan to go about this?” Kirigiri asked.

“Seeing how he’s been lying to us since the beginning, I’m going to go in hard,” Togami said. “Present the evidence, let him know exactly how we’ve got him, and then watch him try to squirm his way out of it.”

“That’s it? You’re just going to threaten and pry it out of him? Isn’t that rather confrontational?”

“That’s how interrogations usually work,” Togami said as he smoothed out his jacket, his equivalent to pushing up his sleeves. “Unlike what Naegi might have told you, you are not supposed to have a pleasant conversation about their pet cat.”

Naegi blushed and looked away.

His clothes prim and proper, his glasses firmly on his nose, Togami marched into the interrogation room. Kirigiri turned to Naegi and could only say one thing:

“This is going to be a disaster.”

Togami sat down across from Kamukura. Kamukura glanced up, then continued to draw circles on the table with his finger. Togami just sat there, his pride making him unwilling to be the first to speak. Until he lost his patience, at least.

“Are you so nervous that you can’t look me in the eye?” Togami taunted.

Again, Kamukura glanced at him. “ _Annoyed_ is the word I would have used.”

“I’m so sorry that the _law_ is inconveniencing you.”

What was Togami doing? Why was he setting up such an adversarial relationship? Sure, sometimes you could goad a suspect into incriminating themselves, but this was different. Was he trying to get himself killed?

“Are you going to tell me why I’m here?” Kamukura said. “I know this is all a sham.”

“Do you really, _Hinata?_ ”

Naegi nearly pressed his nose against the glass, on his tiptoes as he sought to get the best view. Good. Maybe this would teach him not to trust Kamukura so much. However, if Naegi had been expecting a show, he would have been disappointed. For Kamukura didn’t react to the name. He continued to give Togami that bored, annoyed stare.

“. . . Didn’t you meet me before?” Kamukura said. “My name is Kamukura Izuru. Am I seriously here because you forgot my name?”

“I have no doubt you go by that name now,” Togami said. “But let’s talk about your time before joining Hope’s Peak.”

That got their first reaction out of him. Kamukura straightened up slowly.

“There is nothing before,” Kamukura said flatly, but Kirigiri could still detect the defensiveness. Togami did, too, seeing how his smirk grew.

“Is that so? Then are we talking about someone who was born into the church? Did your mommy sign you up? Or do you not care about before, because you only became _special_ after you joined?”

He was obviously referencing something he and Naegi had seen. She quickly asked Naegi, who told her that Togami was addressing the letters to Hinata they had found in the apartment. Kamukura’s gaze grew colder, but he didn’t seem angry.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Togami said. “When did you join Hope’s Peak?”

“I was always one of them.”

“And your parents?”

“My parents. . .? My dad was with them since the beginning.”

“Your mother?”

“By that, you mean . . .?” Kamukura trailed off, leaving her wondering what he had been about to say. “Oh, that one. No, obviously not.”

“Only your dad was part of Hope’s Peak?” Togami echoed her surprise. Usually, cults were strict about marrying within the religion. “What did your mother say when you ran away and decided to join this circus?”

“Why would she say anything?” Kamukura asked. “She doesn’t get a say in this.”

Togami said slowly, “She’s your mother.”

“And Nagito promised to reward her, so there’s nothing left to discuss.”

Togami mulled over that statement while Kirigiri did her best _not_ to think about what a ‘reward’ entailed. “She must have said something. How did she react?”

“I don’t know. It’s not important.” There was a strange hesitation there.

“How did you come to hear of Hope’s Peak?” Togami said.

Kamukura shrugged. “I came of age. It was time for me to know.”

“Time for you to know how special you were?” Togami sneered. “ _You feel the urge within. The need to shed this mortal shell and become something you can be proud of. What would you give to make your waking dreams reality?_ ”

“He’s reciting one of the letters, right?” Kirigiri asked Naegi.

Naegi nodded. “We found a whole collection of them.”

“Is this a poetry reading now?” Kamukura asked, giving Togami a slightly confused, mostly disturbed look.

“No, you. . .! Stop playing dumb. I found a letter with those words in your room.”

Kamukura rolled his eyes. “You’ve never been in my room. Nagito wouldn’t have let you.”

“Your _other_ room!” Togami slammed his fist on the table. (Wasn’t he supposed to be making _Kamukura_ angry?) “The one you lived in when you were going by the name Hinata Hajime!”

Something close to recognition flashed across his face. Still, Kamukura said, “This again?”

“Deny it all you want, but the DNA tests will prove differently,” Togami bluffed.

Kamukura stared at him for a good second. Two seconds. Then he burst out laughing.

“That’s odd,” Kirigiri said. “Togami-kun is telling the truth: if they were the same person, a DNA test would prove it. Perhaps he isn’t Hinata after all.” ( _I hope he isn’t_ , she thought to herself.)

Naegi cocked his head at her. “I don’t understand.”

“DNA, Makoto. It would be the same.”

Naegi looked even more confused. “But that doesn’t work on him.”

“. . . What do you mean?”

“I . . .” He sucked in and nibbled on his lower lip. “I’m not sure.”

“. . . Actually, if you have a copy of the results, I’d like to see it,” Kamukura was saying. “I’m curious how it would turn out.”

This time, Togami slammed _both_ fists on the table. He looked like he wanted to pass out from frustration. “When did Hope’s Peak contact you?”

“Sometime after I came of age, obviously.”

Togami groaned. “And when is _that_? What age?”

Kirigiri wasn’t sure why Togami was going down this route of questioning (Hinata had disappeared a few months ago so it must be his current age.), but even more surprising, Kamukura froze on the answer.

“I mean it varies,” Kamukura said. “Not everyone hits the proper maturity at the same age.”

“That’s not what I am asking. How old are you?”

Once again, Kamukura hesitated.

“I don’t really keep track,” Kamukura claimed. “It’s not that important. Do you feel any different than you did a year ago?”

“That is the stupidest attempt at an excuse I have ever witnessed,” Togami said.

“All that matters is that I’m not old yet,” Kamukura said defensively. “Who cares about the exact number of years I’ve lived through?”

Naegi tugged at her sleeve. “Kyoko, I don’t think he’s lying. He hasn’t kept track.”

“No,” she said. “That’s not quite right. It’s not that he hasn’t been keeping track; he doesn’t _know_.”

Indeed, that was the conclusion she had come to. Kirigiri had directed many interrogations herself, and she had hundreds upon hundreds of stories of suspects lying, of them pretending to be the ignorant acquaintance, the grieving friend, the earnest witness who just wanted to help. Experience had made her quite skilled at detecting the bullshit while also reminding her that people _lied_. However, the bafflement she was seeing from Kamukura was a different type than the usual. His was a kind that was rare, that was difficult to fake.

“How can he not know?” she asked herself.

“Maybe this will jog your memory.” With, Togami slammed down a picture of Hinata and Nanami. The two had their arms around each other’s shoulders as they smiled at the camera. Kamukura reached out and picked the picture up.

“Well?” Togami was standing, braced against the table with his arms. He looked like an animal about to pounce.

Kamukura studied the photo. She couldn’t see from this angle, but it looked like he was tracing Nanami’s head with his finger. Whatever he was doing, it had enraptured him. Just as it had the first time she had shown him Nanami’s picture.

“She’s the dead woman, right?” He asked, as if somehow, he had forgotten.

“Yes. So, tell me why your arm happens to be around her shoulder.”

Kamukura traced her face again. He shook his head. “You have the wrong person.”

“Yet you seem to be rather interested in that picture.”

Scowling, Kamukura pulled his finger away. “I thought you wanted me to look at it.”

Togami stood. With the lazy casualness of a stretching jaguar, he made his way around the table until he could stand behind Kamukura. He clapped his shoulder.

“Do you really think you can hide the truth by simply denying it?” Togami hissed. His voice had dropped, and she strained to hear it. “The government keeps records for a reason. I’ll know your parents, your name, where you want to school . . . I can even tell you the name of the doctor who gave you that red eye. So, go ahead, play this game of keep-away for as long as you want. You’re only delaying the inevitable.”

Kamukura turned and looked _through_ the one-way glass. She could tell. But he wasn’t looking at Naegi and her.

Something shifted.

Oh, it was Naegi. He had turned around and . . . every hair on his arms stood on end. His jaw hung open, allowing him to breathe, to smell better. He was stiff as a board, muscles hardening under his baby fat.

“Makoto?” she whispered.

He ignored her. He stalked forward and away from the interrogation room one careful step at a time, reminding her of a velociraptor on the hunt.

“Makoto!” she said tightly, trying to inject the order to _come here_. She could recognize the primitive symptoms he displayed; it was akin to a kitten fluffing itself up before a threat.

“You can find anything you want!” Kamukura was snarling. “You’ll just read a bunch of words about some _nobody_ who wasn’t important and was just there.”

Togami said, “That’s an awfully specific assumption about somebody you don’t know. Sorry, Hinata, but you just showed your hand.”

“This is so stupid,” Kamukura said. “Why do you care so much about this anyways? She’s dead. That’s the end of it. She’s out of everyone’s reach now.”

“That is precisely the problem,” Togami said. “She was murdered. The police investigate murders. And once we find the culprit, we arrest them and allow justice to take its course.”

“Justice? For what?”

Kirigiri looked back into the interrogation room. Togami was very still. Then he leaned down and spoke right into Kamukura’s face. “Someone _murdered_ her.”

“Yeah, and her life ended and her soul has moved on. I get it. You keep acting like it’s a bad thing. All it means is that it’s over for her. She doesn’t have to worry about the future.”

“Then why don’t I kill you?” Togami asked. “It’s not a bad thing, right?”

“If I was her, yes, it wouldn’t be!” Kamukura scoffed and poured himself a new glass of water. “Death is a blessing for those like you.”

“Like me?!”

Oh, this would be messy. She turned to exchange a wince with Naegi, but he wasn’t anywhere near her. He was at the end of the hall, staring around the corner.

And as she watched, he suddenly _charged_ and disappeared around the corner.

“Makoto!” In a flash, she whipped around and ran down the hall, skidding around the corner. Naegi stood not far away in the middle of the hallway, low to the ground but not yet on all fours. She grabbed his arm and tugged, but he resisted, making a strange groaning under his breath.

“Makoto.” He still wasn’t responding to her, instead glaring down the hallway. Then, he whipped around and pressed into her in a nonverbal demand for a hug. Her grip slid down his arm to the wrist and something was wrong, the friction was wrong.

She looked. There was blood smeared over his hands.

“Makoto?” She turned his hand over. She couldn’t see where it had come from.

He didn’t answer.

She remembered Togami. She tugged Naegi along, keeping her body between him and that hallway. Back in the interrogation room, Kamukura was sitting, sipping at his glass of water. Togami was opening the door to leave.

Togami made a beeline for them. He was frowning, fiddling with his glasses as if he couldn’t see through them correctly.

“Well, that was something,” he said.

“Yes.” She glanced at Naegi; he seemed to have finally stopped looking behind him.

Togami said, “I thought I had a lead and . . . I can’t believe he’s not Hinata Hajime.”

. . . What?

“You . . .” She trailed off. Togami didn’t seem to be lying. Contrary to what he thought, Togami wasn’t the best liar; he acted too smug when he thought he was fooling you. “Didn’t you prove otherwise?”

“What are you talking about?” Togami asked.

She was about to tell him the truth when she saw how slack his face was. There was a dazed glow to it; he blinked too much like someone had shone a bright light in his eyes. And though Togami was looking at them both, he had said nothing about Naegi’s hands.

“. . . Nothing. Sorry, I had misheard you,” she lied. Let this die. Let this go away. Get Kamukura away from her colleagues, from her friends and Naegi, from _her_. She didn’t know how Togami’s thoughts had become muddled up, but she didn’t care. All it meant was . . .

( _A flash of pointed teeth._ )

Kamukura Izuru was just as human as Komaeda Nagito was.

She tugged on Naegi, who turned to acknowledge her this time. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Tanaka makes a move.


	48. Chapter 48

She shoved Naegi past everyone before they could get a good look at him, because what was she supposed to say if they asked about his hands? With a quick glance behind her, she pulled him into the first washroom she saw, not caring that it was meant only for men. It’s not like they would say anything. She intimidated most of the men around here.

“Alright, talk. What happened?” Kirigiri demanded as she wrenched the faucet knobs open.

Naegi didn’t say anything. He wasn’t completely ignoring her though, for he had started staring at his hands, opening and closing them like a flower’s petals.

“Look at me.” She snapped her fingers in front of his nose. “What did you see out there?”

His expression didn’t shift as he met her eyes. There was something different about him, something cold and alien reminding her of herself while possessed. Naegi wasn’t possessed though, because when she had seen herself acting as a puppet, her gaze had been empty and devoid of thought; nothing more than a robot carrying out orders. In Naegi’s case, however, a clear intelligence lurked there.

“You didn’t feel him?” he asked.

“No.” She thought about it, but she couldn’t recall an instance where she thought anything was amiss, not until Naegi behaved strangely. “What was it?”

“He keeps coming back,” Naegi said quietly. “What does it take to make Komaeda _go away_?”

Naegi’s hiss was wild, a cesspool of white-hot rage and loathing. Yet it was also frightened and subdued, tremulous as if Naegi himself didn’t know why he was saying this, as if he didn’t understand the words coming out of his mouth.

“What did he want?” she asked, believing him without question. It may have sounded odd considering she hadn’t seen a trace of him, but Komaeda was a monster. Surely, something as petty as hiding from her was within his capabilities.

“I don’t know. Maybe he was following Kamukura. He was just _there_.” Naegi spat out the word as if it had personally insulted him. Kirigiri was uneasy, remembering how Naegi had stalked down those halls like he was hunting something and he couldn’t have possibly been that brave ~~stupid~~ , could he?

Quietly, she asked, “Is that whose blood is on your hands?”

Naegi looked down at his hands again. He turned them over a few times, as if he had forgotten about them. Fine. She wouldn’t push him. She’d know if it was his soon enough.

She tested the water again. There. A bit on the hot side, but better than freezing. She turned around, and her lungs hitched. Naegi, having truly focused on his bloody and possibly injured hands, had given into the instinctive urge to suck on the back of one. Normally, that wasn’t an issue, but this might not be his blood. This could be blood from another entity completely, and she had no idea what was in it.

“Get that out of your mouth!” she snapped. At first, she thought he listened because he did detach his mouth from the back of his hand. But then his tongue flicked out and lapped at a drop.

Idiot! She physically tore his arm away from his mouth and forced his hands toward the sink. The water ran deep red for a brief few seconds before clearing up. What it left behind made it clear that the blood didn’t come from Naegi.

 _Makoto hurt him,_ she thought, stunned. It wasn’t that she had assumed they were invincible, but this marked the first victory. After all the mind games and the way they had manipulated their entire lives, Naegi had simply turned around and. . . and what exactly? The location of the blood suggested that he had scratched them, but that was a lot of blood for some fingernail scratches.

“How did you hurt it?” she asked.

Naegi shrugged. “Swiped at him.”

That was all he offered. She didn’t think he was hiding anything more from her. This time.

They went home. Naegi, as if just realizing who he had attacked earlier, spent most of the ride huddled up to her. She accepted the physical contact, taking solace in the steady movement of his chest. Naegi kept watch on the world outside through the back window. His intensity would have worried her if she hadn’t known what he was looking for.

They arrived home without trouble. She headed straight for the kitchen to put on a kettle; she needed tea to calm her nerves. As she walked through the house, she couldn’t help but imitate Naegi and check out the window for trespassers. She didn’t need to, she knew that as Tanaka was around and she had seen the sigil on the front door when they had walked in. Hope’s Peak wouldn’t get them here.

Glass broke upstairs.

She stared at the ceiling. It was just Naegi, right? Naegi and his clumsiness. She’d better check on him; he was prone to small injuries. She hurried upstairs, launching herself up each step. The door to their bedroom was open and she didn’t think it had been before –

Naegi charged out of the room and slammed into her. They fell in a heap, his elbow crushing her windpipe, making her choke on her spit. Naegi breathed hard and fast on top of her, and she could feel the tension in his spine.

She rubbed her head and began to sit up. “Makoto, what -?”

She froze. She didn’t dare move.

She didn’t dare aggravate the arrow sticking out of Naegi’s back.

Someone else stepped out of their bedroom.

“What happened?” she shouted at Tanaka. “Are they staking out the house so they can shoot us?”

A small part of her whispered that was wrong, that her theory didn’t make sense. She couldn’t listen to it though, not when Naegi was whimpering and panting in her lap, not when bubbles of blood grew and popped around the embedded shaft. She had to leave it in and let the paramedics cut it out, but she couldn’t remember if there was anything she needed to do before that because who the hell used arrows anymore. . .?

. . .

She looked up just as Tanaka finished reloading the crossbow.

“NO!”

Naegi whimpered as he hit the ground. She reached for the crossbow, touched it. . . just as Tanaka began to fire. Her momentum, her speed in hitting the crossbow was enough to skew the arrow’s path, but the flint sliced through the side of her glove on its way into the floor. It _burned_. That wasn’t normal.

Tanaka grabbed the side of her shoulder and tried to shove her aside, like she was some helpless woman in an old movie. She dropped her weight, spread her stance, and held her ground, earning a doubletake from her opponent. It left him open – unbalanced – the predator within whispered.

“Makoto, run!”

She dropped her shoulder and tackled Tanaka at the waist. She didn’t have a running start, but she had her legs braced against the ground and technique at her call. Tanaka hadn’t been expecting her to react so aggressively, and she carried him off his feet and into a wall. She felt the air leave his lungs, felt the vibrations of the impact through his flesh. She couldn’t spare time to check if Naegi was fleeing as she brought Tanaka to the ground, but she prayed he was.

“It’s not what you think!” Kirigiri shouted at Tanaka. She straddled him, weight on his chest, trying to hold his shoulders down. “Naegi cut one of them, that’s what you’re sensing. He’s fine –”

His palm slammed into her chest.

She could have taken the blow, but there was something _else_ behind it. Her body crumpled like paper, and a knee in her stomach was all it took to knock her off. Tanaka shoved her aside, scooped up the crossbow, and set his sights on Naegi, who was just disappearing down the stairs. Ice dripped down her back as she realized this was no misunderstanding and that Tanaka knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

That was all she needed to know. It no longer mattered that Tanaka had once protected them. She scrambled forward on all fours, ripped the arrow out of the ground and without ever fully standing, _lunged_.

She aimed for his Achilles tendon. But from the corner of his eye, he saw her strike, twisting just in time so the arrow caught the front of his shin. His cry of pain was muffled, but not absent; he was not immune to whatever burning agent he had laced them with. (And Naegi had one embedded _inside_ him.) For a moment, Tanaka had the crossbow pointed straight at her, but something made him hesitate.

His mistake.

She raised the arrowhead in a crude uppercut, tearing up the side of his face through the cheek and temple. This time, he cried out. He slapped his hand against the wound, as if the bandages tied around it would somehow stop this bleeding, too.

“Get out,” she hissed. One warning. A single warning out of gratitude for what he had done for them.

“No.” Tanaka wiped his cheek. A drop of blood flicked off his finger. “No more. You shall not distract me again.”

“Me? If this is about me, then stay away from him!”

“You would approve of that,” Tanaka said. “But I have wasted enough time on you. They are clever, but now I understand. You were the bait from the beginning and like a fool, I fell for it!”

The crossbow was the greatest threat. It needed to go. But he was ready for her this time and as she slid forward, he twisted out of the way. The side of the crossbow came at her like a hammer, striking true. Her teeth rattled against each other and did so again when her skull smacked against the wall; the arrow slipped from her grasp. She heard Tanaka running down the stairs before she turned to see him. Where was Naegi? Had he hidden, had he fled? Had he called the police?

The police. She’d forgotten they could help her. At the least, their presence might deter Tanaka. She pulled out her phone, but the screen was awash in static. How. . . ? Magic. That bastard!

Tanaka was almost at the bottom of the stairs. She couldn’t outrun him; she calculated that if he spotted Naegi, by the time she reached him, Tanaka would unleash another shot. She couldn’t reach him in time, but . . . but. . .

The moment the idea popped into her head, she flung herself over the staircase’s railing.

A crash. The smack of flesh against flesh. She groaned with pain. That had been a brilliant idea, but it had also been a _stupid_ idea. Her aim had been true though and she’d fallen upon Tanaka. Now they were both on the ground, and Naegi had another chance to slip away.

“Do you not see what is happening?” Tanaka growled. Falling on top of him must have hurt him, because he wasn’t making any move to stand. “You saw the memories. The veil has been lifted.”

“Those memories? They proved nothing,” she said.

“They explained everything!” Tanaka shifted and grabbed the bottom of his rib cage. “Look at yourself! Do you not see what you are doing? Can you not divine your role in this madness? I thought he was cursed, but now I see clearly. He _is_ the curse!”

Although he was hurt, although he favoured one side and needed that hand on his ribs as he stood, Tanaka rose. She did, too, on shaky legs. They locked eyes.

Tanaka didn’t speak so much as his mouth opened and the world shifted to please him. Red lines glowed under his arm as he pointed at her and _spoke_. It hit her immediately. Her legs buckled as she crashed to the ground, and it was like fingers were pushing into her eyelids and forcing them closed.

 **Sleep** , the universe demanded. Like before, like when she and Naegi had tried to walk home in the dark and Tanaka had kidnapped them.

**Sleep.**

Her head was heavy and fuzzy. She knew without asking him that if she were to fall asleep, she would wake up again unharmed.

**Sleep.**

( _But if she were to sleep, she would wake up. . ._

 _And Naegi would not._ )

 _Shake it off_ , she told herself. She dug her fingernails into her palm until she could feel them, until the pain flicked a switch in her brain that gave her some freedom to move. Her traitorous body had sided with Tanaka, cracking and moaning with weariness. She stood on legs that couldn’t support her weight, lurched forward with a body that wouldn’t move. She climbed across the wall hand by hand, until her blurry vision found a dark figure in the doorway to the backyard.

Although Tanaka blocked her line of sight, she could still sense Naegi’s status. He lay crumpled at the base of the far fence – whether from pain, magic or weakness, she didn’t know. He didn’t know Tanaka was there because the screaming kettle, still on the hot stove, would have drowned out any sound Tanaka made. Tanaka was between her and Naegi, in a location where he would have a clear shot. And she . . . she felt like her body was trying to melt into a boneless puddle. She was no match for the injured, but strong Tanaka. She couldn’t even warn Naegi because the kettle would drown out her hoarse voice –

She stumbled toward the stove and with what felt like the last of her strength, grabbed the hot kettle and lobbed it straight at Tanaka.

As the kettle smashed into him, its lid flew off. The bubbling water spewed out, splashing across Tanaka’s face and upper body. The man _screamed_. He fell back from the doorway, sleeves writhing as the hamsters hidden within fled from the boiling liquid dripping down the sorcerer’s back. She staggered past him, vision and footsteps growing stronger as she finally beheld Naegi’s limp form.

“Makoto!”

He was breathing, but his glassy eyes stared into the distance and foam oozed from the corner of his mouth. She hooked her arms under his armpits and dragged him toward the backyard shed. She had to hide him. She had to get him out of the crossbow’s sights.

Once she had flung the shed door open and dragged him inside, she collapsed. She fell on top of him, narrowly missing the arrow shaft, where she pressed her ear to his chest and checked he was still breathing. She reached for the bottom of the shed door so she could close it –

Tanaka ripped the door open.

He panted. One side of his face was red and bloody. The hamsters surrounded his feet, squeaking furiously at her. She spread her limbs, trying to cover as much of Naegi as she could.

“Move,” Tanaka said. “This fate is not yours to share.”

Her voice broke. “He’s done nothing wrong!”

Tanaka shook his head. “It is not what he has done, but what he is. He is the summoner. He is the reason they swarm here. He will be the reason the banished ones descend once more. I cannot allow them to have him.”

Tanaka grabbed the back of her jacket. She tried to dig her fingers in and clung to the ground, but his sharp-toothed hamsters sunk their teeth into her flesh, and she instinctively let go. He dragged her out of the shed and deposited her outside.

“I am sorry for your loss, but this must be,” he said, before turning toward Naegi.

She tried to crawl forward, but she no longer had the strength. She couldn’t move from her spot anymore. All she could do was close her eyes, choke back a sob and pray . . .

And rip the rosary off from around her neck.

 _Komaeda saved him once._ Her eyes were so tightly shut they hurt. _You must want him alive. I’m here. I’m_ inviting _you in._

Tanaka started to notch his next arrow.

Her body moved.

He swung around, hearing her coming. But she scuttled past him on all fours and reached instead for the fat rodent with the sigil on its back.

With a single twist of her wrist, she snapped its neck.

The sorcerer stared. His face was pale. The other rodents squealed, and then took off in the direction of the house.

“What have you done?” Tanaka said as her body dragged itself back to Naegi. “ _What have you done_?”

He raised the crossbow and pointed it at her. But before he could shoot, the shed door swung shut between them. As she lay on the ground near Naegi, well outside arm’s reach of the door, it locked by itself.

Tanaka shouted at them. The shed shook as his boot smashed into the door. It had never been built to withstand force. She could hear the wood splintering at the hinges, and all she could do was reach over and grab Naegi’s hand tight.

He didn’t squeeze back.

Darkness sunk in as Tanaka’s spell finally took hold. She made one final observation as she slipped into unconsciousness:

Tanaka was no longer kicking down the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Togami: Goddamn it! Why can't you two stay out of the hospital?


	49. Chapter 49

She wasn’t sure why she had awakened, or how long she had been unconscious. She suspected the cause of her awakening was the piercing sirens she could hear even enclosed within the shed. Unlike the last time Tanaka had charmed her, her body was heavy and swollen-feeling. She had a suspicion she had woken up before she was meant to.

“Makoto?”

His cold, limp hand lay within hers. But she could hear him panting. The floor under his jaw was dark and damp from drool, which had also crusted on his chin. Foam had spread from his lips to his cheek and bubbled around his teeth as if he were a rapid animal.

With her elbows, she crawled over. Still only one arrow in his back. Good. Tanaka had. . . what exactly? Given up? That didn’t seem right, given how determined he was to kill Naegi. Did that mean he would return?

As more and more of her body returned to her, she became aware of voices outside. She kicked the door as loudly as she did and tried to call out. Instead, she merely coughed.

The voices rose. Then, someone opened the door and bright light spilled inside. She flinched but didn’t blink. She didn’t know these people and that elicited a moment of panic, but they moved too fast for her to really react. Before she could do anything stupid, they were buzzing around Naegi and her, barking questions to her face and manipulating her body.

“We were attacked. Tanaka tried to kill him,” she heard herself say.

More shouting. A stretcher rolled in. One paramedic was still talking to Kirigiri, but the majority huddled around Naegi. They counted down to three, and then lifted him onto the stretcher. She reached for him as they wheeled him out of the shed.

“Can you walk?” the paramedic was saying to her.

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head.

It didn’t take long for a stretcher to come for her. It was an odd thing to put her fate in the hands of another, to lay there and wait until they lifted her. She almost felt like a fraud; she wasn’t the one in need of a hospital visit. The paramedics, however, strongly disagreed. Once the blanket was on her and tucked in, they pushed her and the stretcher out of the shed.

She immediately noticed the police tape draped around the yard. Koizumi was there, snapping pictures. The photographer froze when they locked eyes. At first, Kirigiri wasn’t sure exactly what the police seemed so concerned about. Until she noticed they were stepping carefully, keeping a wide berth from the area in front of the shed even as the paramedics tromped through it.

Blood. The grass in front of the shed glistened with blood.

As they wheeled her past, she saw several troughs in the ground. Her inner detective set to work, interpreting them with an alarming quickness: fingermarks. Trails left by fingers that had dug into the ground as someone was dragged away. The troughs led into an almost perfect circle of blood-soaked dirt. The source of the blood was obvious, but other than that, she could see no other physical remains from Tanaka.

“Makoto,” she whispered. She could feel him calling for her.

“Don’t worry,” the paramedic said. “We got him.”

She closed her eyes and surrendered.

* * *

They’d done this before, hadn’t they? It hadn’t even been that long ago. But how the situation had changed. This time, she was the one discharged without much trouble, although the doctors had no name for the weariness that haunted her. (Though she knew what it was.) This time, Naegi was the one in a bed. And unlike last time, it wasn’t simply a matter of waiting for the other to wake.

She stared at the bandages wrapped around his chest. They’d put him to bed on his stomach, worried about placing pressure on his wound. The doctor had said he would likely wake up, but had held back other details, and Kirigiri remembered the hesitation when she had pressed for them. Plus, there had been a few moments where she could smell it: a scorched, rotten smell originating from Naegi’s wound. She was certain that Tanaka. . . would not be a threat again, but that didn’t mean the man hadn't succeeded in his goal.

She fought the nurses when they tried to shoo her away for the night, eventually bringing up that she and the victim were both detectives, and letting the unspoken brotherhood between emergency services do the work for her. She crawled under the covers and spooned him as best as she could without touching the wound, wondering if this was how Naegi felt the day he had dragged her out of the sinking car. She shifted her position a little more, making sure her back shielded him from anyone outside the window.

Her rest was fitful, ending every time her overstimulated senses thought Naegi moved. At around two in the morning, there was someone else in the room when she awoke. It was likely a hospital worker, but she still snapped into alertness.

Thank god she had, because it was Shinguji Korekiyo standing in the room.

“What are you doing here?” she rasped.

“Checking in for the others,” he said. “They certainly were not going to send Komaeda Nagito. I imagine neither of you two would have appreciated that.”

He drifted closer and she hunched over Naegi like a mother dog defending her puppies.

“His luck is such a strange thing,” Shinguji said. “That same incident which had necessitated all this work likely spared him from that toxin.”

“Toxin?” she said sharply.

“You do not need to worry about yourself. It would sting, but otherwise, it would be fairly harmless to you. For him, however . . . Well, he appears to have survived. We are all very fortunate.”

“Tanaka meant to kill him. Why?” She wasn’t sure if it was safe to say that to someone associated with Hope’s Peak. But she wanted answers, and she knew that whatever had happened with Tanaka, Hope’s Peak hadn’t intended it.

“It is what his kind does,” Shinguji said. “They hunt the ones unable to protect themselves.”

What a very accurate description. “What happened to Tanaka?”

“Do not worry about his fate,” Shinguji said. “Many things are more worthy of concern than an egg-smasher.”

It was the first time she had seen Shinguji express any negative emotion. She wasn’t sure she liked it.

“Makoto will pull through, right?” she said softly, staring at his face as if her words would rouse him.

“He should.”

“. . .What do you mean _should_?” she demanded. “Why not yes?”

“There is always a possibility that his health could take a turn for the worst.”

Her stomach turned over. She stared harder at Naegi, trying to read the lines in his face and predict his future.

“He’s getting through this,” Kirigiri said. “I’m not giving him a choice.”

Shinguji stood there. He didn’t move. “Tell me, Kirigiri Kyoko: what are you willing to do to save him?”

Her soul shuddered. She smacked her lips, searching for her voice. “What do you want?”

“Hmm? Ah, my apologies. I was not offering a deal, although I can see why you would insinuate differently. I am merely curious. Humanity is truly a spectacle to behold, and passion is its brightest star. You, in particular, are beautiful.”

“. . . I would do anything,” she said. It was dangerous. There was a good chance that Shinguji would pass that onto the others, but that was the point. If something went wrong or Naegi’s luck struck, then she wanted them to intervene.

“Yes, you would. Farewell, Kirigiri Kyoko,” Shinguji said, stepping backward toward the door. “Believe me when I say we all wish him a quick recovery.”

She shouldn’t be, but in a way, his words comforted her. If Hope’s Peak wanted him to survive, then he would, wouldn’t he? Those monsters could warp the mind and bend you to their will; surely, keeping Naegi alive required little effort from them. And if Naegi’s continued survival ended up playing into whatever plans they had . . .

. . . She didn’t care.

* * *

The next day, she gave her testimony. Naturally, Togami came to claim it in person and the usually pretentious, unruffled police chief had shed that mask. He came to her bleary-eyed, with hair not greasy, but oiler from stress. His foot tapped restlessly as she spoke, matching his twitching finger. He had a moment of clear reprieve when she confirmed Hope’s Peak was not the culprit, but the tapping became even faster when she listed Tanaka instead.

“You said he was an enemy of Hope’s Peak,” Togami said, watching her through narrowed eyes. She remembered that file in his office that listed her as a potential traitor.

“He is. He knew Hope’s Peak was targeting us, so Tanaka decided to take action before they could.”

Togami grunted. He looked over her head at Naegi’s unconscious form. “I heard you were unconscious when they brought you in, but you told me that Tanaka left you with no injuries. You don’t strike me as the type to faint from stress.”

“Magic. He cursed me.”

Togami sneered. “Very funny.”

She shrugged. He wouldn’t believe her if she insisted.

“Once again, you are extraordinarily lucky,” Togami remarked. “If I were in Tanaka’s shoes, I would have taken you out first. There’s no point in wasting my time with Naegi while there’s a tigress breathing down my neck.”

“Tanaka was after him, not me,” she said hoarsely. She wiped away a drop of drool from Naegi’s lips.

“Him? _Why?_ ” Togami demanded. “Naegi has made it very clear he is against Hope’s Peak. I thought this whole thing was about you anyways?”

_Komaeda cradling an unconscious Naegi. . ._

_Herself fighting with the police chief to secure Naegi’s position . . ._

“No,” she said, “it’s always been about both of us.”

“Great. And now that you’ve slammed the door on them, everything’s trying to kill you.”

That wasn’t right. Hope’s Peak wanted him alive. Still, she tucked her knees to her chest as she huddled on her chair.

Togami sighed and glanced at the bedside table. “You haven’t seriously been eating hospital food for the last two days, have you? Even his sister makes better food, and that’s saying something. Speaking of her, will she be arriving soon?”

“She and his mother should be here in about an hour,” Kirigiri said.

“I suppose I’ll need to order a pizza large enough for three, then.”

“Four,” she corrected quickly.

“I’m not . . .” He paused, understanding. “You think Naegi would want pizza when he wakes up?”

“Pepperoni’s his favourite,” was all she said.

When it arrived, she only nibbled at the pizza, leaving the bulk of it for Naegi’s family. They arrived with tears and wails, ignoring her and heading straight to Naegi’s side, as they should. Her gut twisted; she felt like a failure. With neither of them noticing, she stood and walked out of the room.

She rubbed her eyes. She needed caffeine. Naegi couldn’t wake up later alone. She stumbled to the nearest vending machine, put the coins in, and rested her head against the cool glass.

“. . .Hey.”

She slowly faced the speaker. _Him._

“Uh, hi,” Kamukura said, rubbing the back of his neck. “How is he?”

She didn’t answer.

Not looking at her, Kamukura said, “I would have visited earlier but . . . I had some family stuff to take care of. I’m sorry Tanaka got to him.”

Family stuff. That explained why they would send Shinguji instead of Naegi’s _favourite_.

“I know you don’t want me here, so I won’t go into the room,” Kamukura said. “He is getting better, right? I’m sure Shinguji-kun expressed it weirdly because that’s what he does, but I really am worried about him.”

“Why?” she asked, her forehead still resting about the guess.

Kamukura looked at her for a long moment. “Do I have to have a reason?”

“You do when you’re the reason he’s like this,” she said. “You may not have wanted this to happen, but Tanaka went after him because of _you_.”

Kamukura looked pained. “We didn’t want it to happen like this, either. I know it’s not supposed to be like this, but there’s not much choice. Naegi’s father . . .”

“Naegi’s father what?” she said. Even Kamukura knew?

Kamukura cursed. “Forget it.”

“Makoto’s father tried to kill him. I know.” She glared at Kamukura through a sheet of hair. “And Komaeda _saved_ him. Did you sic Makoto’s father on him the way you set Tanaka on us?”

“We would have helped you!” he cried. “But the Devas kept us from getting close enough. I told Nagito that Tanaka was dangerous, but we couldn’t find him, and we definitely didn’t know he was so close to you. Now Naegi’s in a hospital bed and we still have no idea what Tanaka found out that would make Naegi a target or _how_ he did.”

She knew. It was those memories she saw. Those memories she had entrusted to Tanaka so naively. She was the reason Naegi was in that bed.

Kamukura scowled. “I told Nagito we should have stepped in the moment that sigil appeared on your door. It’s the confessional all over again. Nagito gets somewhere, and then he gets overconfident and everything goes wrong. He and his brother are clearly related, because Nagito – I know I shouldn’t be saying this – can be such an _idiot_. He’s lucky that stunt two years ago didn’t blow up in his face.”

“Two years ago?” she repeated.

“Yeah. Junko told me that two years, Nagito found out he could finally get within a mile of Naegi again. So, he immediately decided the best thing to do was approach him on the street.” Kamukura groaned with exasperation, but he seemed a little more relaxed now that he had someone to vent to. “I have no idea how he got this far before I came along.”

There was something suspicious about that last sentence, but she didn’t care. She asked instead, “What do you mean he could finally get within a mile of Makoto again?”

“It’s not that Nagito couldn’t get near him before, but apparently Naegi would sense him and flip out. Then he’d have nightmares for weeks, and Nagito’s not so much of an ass that he’d stick around and make it worse.”

Naegi’s nightmares . . .? Their occurrences hadn’t been random? They hadn’t always been triggered by the cases they worked on? They had been triggered by _Komaeda?_ By the times Komaeda had been stalking him from afar, checking if his prey had finally thought he moved on. How many episodes had Naegi suffered while they lived together? All those times and she had never known Komaeda was sitting outside _hunting_ them, and that Naegi’s instincts had been the only thing keeping him at bay.

She slammed Kamukura into the vending machine, hearing the glass crack under the pressure. Kamukura didn’t look hurt, merely confused as to why her hands were on him.

“What does he want?” she cried out.

Kamukura picked at her fingers. “You should take a moment and calm down.”

“No, you don’t get to do that,” she said. “You are not allowed to stand there and act like I’m crazy when Komaeda Nagito has been following Makoto around for his entire life –”

“You need to let go of me,” Kamukura said.

Metaphorical steam blew out her nose. How dare he interrupt? “I am not letting go. Give me one reason . . .”

“Because he’ll get really _mad_ if he sees this!” Kamukura snapped.

She paused. Slowly, without her consent, her fingers loosened from his collar. He stepped away from the vending machine, a few shards of glass falling to the ground. He smoothed down his shirt, huffing like a drenched cat pretending that it hadn’t fallen into the bathtub.

“Try to be more careful, okay?” he admonished her. “Just doing your job isn’t always enough to stay in their good graces.”

She tried not to shudder. “You mean the Elders.”

Kamukura laughed. “I guess I do get to call them that. Seriously though, tell Naegi-kun I hope he gets better.”

Kamukura swaggered off. She thought about his request. Tell Naegi that Kamukura said. . .

Kamukura could go to hell instead.

She took her coffee and returned to the hospital room. Naegi’s mother, at least, had calmed down enough to notice her. She told them a half-truth: that Naegi had been attacked by a suspect in one of their cases. She begrudgingly allowed them to believe that she had been careless, and Tanaka had followed them home, and then broken in and gone after the first person he saw.

Komaru sniffed. “Why did my stupid brother have to become a detective?”

Her chest panged. _Because of me_.

“Hush, dear.” Naegi’s mother rubbed her daughter’s back. “That Tanaka got what he deserved.”

Her eyes narrowed. What? She hadn’t said anything about Tanaka’s fate, though she supposed his mother assumed . . .

_“Not if she knew he was dead,” Jin said. “She was certain of that when I spoke to her.”_

. . .

(How deep did the rabbit hole go?)

“He’ll wake up, right?” Komaru asked. They both turned to her.

“Of course,” Kirigiri said and it ~~maybe~~ wasn’t a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Rated M for sexual content ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	50. Chapter 50

Kirigiri jerked to attention. Her first thought was that Naegi had moved and her eyes roved over him with desperation. But he remained still and unconscious, as he had been for the last two days. No, what had shaken her out of her waking stupor was his sister, who had shaken her by the shoulder to grab her attention.

“I brought you food,” Komaru said, pointing with her eyes at the side-table. “You should eat something.”

Kirigiri followed her gaze blearily. She had no need for food. She wasn’t hungry. She needed no energy. The first day, she had been moving; patrolling the small perimeter to keep it clear of threats. But Naegi hadn’t woke up. Naegi had yet to display any signs of recovery. . . there was nothing more to do.

She laid her head down again. Her body felt weak and unresponsive, as if she were the one in a coma. (She’d gotten a peek as the doctors had changed the bandages; she’d seen the black, charred-looking flesh there.) The more she looked at him, the more energy faded from her; the more energy she lost, the more she looked at him. She refused to consider that Naegi wouldn’t wake up again, but what if he didn’t recover? How did she move on from there?

“Kyoko-chan.” Komaru shook her again. “Seriously, you need to eat something.”

Kirigiri didn’t acknowledge her.

Komaru groaned. “I know I can’t force you to do anything, but Makoto will be so mad at me if you starve yourself.”

That was enough to finally lift her head and choke down some food. It was lumpy and tasteless, and she wasn’t convinced it was only because it was hospital food.

“Are you feeling okay?” Komaru asked. “Tanaka attacked you, too, didn’t he?”

“He didn’t hurt me,” she said.

Komaru looked at her for a long moment without saying anything. “I still can’t believe my brother became a detective. He’s so . . . squishy sometimes.”

Yes, he was, wasn’t he? That was an innate part of him, something she couldn’t fix. If this case had proven anything, it was that the combination of Naegi’s nature and his position was a threat. Did she need to act then? Was it necessary to find him a new career? It would be difficult to find him a new profession, but she had a reputation even outside the police.

She sighed. She’d consider this later, after he woke.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go for a walk or something?” Komaru asked. “You look awful.”

She shook her head. She needed to be here for him.

Komaru sighed and sat down. “Okay. What was that case anyways? Um, if you’re allowed to tell me.”

“Has Makoto said anything to you about Hope’s Peak?” she asked.

“Not really,” Komaru said. “He did say you two were . . . Oh.”

Kirigiri studied her. “Has your mother ever said anything about them?”

“Mom? No. Why would she?”

“No reason,” Kirigiri lied. “I’m being thorough. If someone from Hope’s Peak does contact you though, run. Don’t be stupid like your brother and I.”

Her eyes darted from her to him. “So, Hope’s Peak. . .?”

“Not this time. But it’s still their fault.”

She watched him again. The rise and fall of his chest was the only thing keeping her heart beating.

As it had been for the last two nights, her sleep was hazy and filled with blob-like mirages. It wasn’t even a true sleep, but a form of semi-consciousness, so that when Naegi finally began to move for the first time, she woke quickly. He squirmed under the covers, snuffling like something had lodged in his throat. If it hadn’t been for the heart monitor, she might have thought he was in his death throes. She wondered if it was another nightmare. She didn’t think so, because she had never seen him have a nightmare with his eyes open.

His eyes were open.

He didn’t respond when she said his name. She noticed that he was wrestling with his covers. That wasn’t normal, to say the least. The room was dark, but light glinted off his wide, wild eyes. He didn’t know where he was, she realized. He didn’t know what was happening. If his memory was working, then the last thing he would have remembered was Tanaka trying to kill him.

“Makoto, you’re in a hospital,” she whispered sternly as Naegi kicked his blanket off the bed. “You’re safe. Tanaka got you, but you’re in recovery.”

Naegi didn’t respond to her voice. Having successfully vanquished his evil blanket and pillow, however, meant they were the only two things on the bed. Naegi’s head swung around. Noticing her for the first time, he stiffened.

Her efforts to soothe him were for naught, although it wasn’t like he gave her much time. The sharp points of his nails dug into her shoulder as his body slammed into hers. The mattress awaited her, making the impact more shocking than painful. She was silent as Naegi leaned into her face and glared.

Who could tell if it was shock or trust that kept her still as his face hovered an inch from her skin. He inhaled deeply; with a start, she realized he was sniffing her. Kirigiri didn’t place him as the type to do things like that, but she couldn’t deny it was only after the sniff that he leaned back and settled on his haunches.

“Are you satisfied?” she asked because no one had ever told her what to say in this kind of situation.

He made a noise that could have been a grunt of agreement, or just a random grunt.

With the matter of the maybe-stranger on his bed settled, Naegi turned his attention back to the room he didn’t know. Obviously, her explanation about the hospital hadn’t reached him, for he backed into her until he was nearly sitting in her lap. He scanned the room and in the gloom, failed to recognize even the slumbering forms of his family in the bed next to theirs. She grabbed his arm, worried that he would pounce on his mother or sister before he came to his senses.

“Wake up . . .! Go to sleep?” she amended, not quite sure what she was dealing with.

She felt a rumble deep within his chest. He hunched down low, then scuttled backward and tucked himself in against her side. God, what had Tanaka shot him with?

“Makoto, it’s me,” she said slow and clear. “You’re safe. It’s just a hospital.”

She still wasn’t sure whether he was able to understand her, but his ribs weren’t heaving as much. She ran her hand down the ridge of his spine. He peered up at her and smacked his lips loudly.

She understood that signal. She grabbed the water pitcher, handed it to him, and then went for a glass. Of course, by the time she turned around with it, Naegi had started drinking from the pitcher. Why did she even bother?

Afterwards, he sat up and picked at the top of his bandages, confused. Even by sight alone, she could tell the wildness in him was fading. Like layers of an onion, it peeled away to reveal the nervous, but reliable persona she had expected.

“This is a hospital,” he said airily, not fully awake.

Those were words. He had come back to her. That meant she could finally react to it.

In retrospect, it was a bad idea – Naegi could still be weak and recovering – but she fell forward, forcing him to bear her weight as her arms wrapped around him. She didn’t cry, but her breathing mimicked the pattern of one who had.

“I’m so glad you’re awake. You gave everyone a good scare,” she said.

He traced the bandages around his chest to his back. “Tanaka. . . What happened? Where is he?”

“You don’t need to worry about him. He’s been taken care of.” It was childish, but she was hesitant to use the word ‘dead’ after Naegi himself had nearly been.

“What am I doing here?” he asked her.

“Tanaka attacked you. He shot you with a poisoned arrow and you nearly d-died.” She took a moment to calm her voice, and then repeated herself.

“I don’t understand. Why would he turn on us?” Naegi asked.

 _On you_ , she corrected mentally. She answered, “I don’t know.”

It was true, and not true. She didn’t know the exact reasons, but Tanaka had given him a very strong lead as to where her answers laid: those forgotten memories. He had seen something in them that had convinced him that Naegi was an enemy, and that meant she could find those clues, too. She just to go over them again, see how they connected and . . .

. . .

Something within her shivered and recoiled. She could od it. That was without doubt. And it would be a trap – like a hungry crocodile lurking below the surface. Tanaka had tried to kill Makoto after making his discovery. In that case, how could the answer be anything but horrible? She looked Naegi in the eyes, in those big, trusting innocent eyes. . .

She didn’t want to know the truth. ~~She couldn’t know the truth~~.

“I was a fool to trust him,” she said. “We already knew he was willing to take extreme actions to achieve his ends. It only follows that he would turn on us the moment he thought it was in his own interest. But his reasons don’t matter. He’s gone, and that’s all we need to care about.”

* * *

Naegi was sent home the next day with orders not to engage in rigorous activity. He said he felt okay, but Kirigiri caught him clutching at his chest from time to time with a troubling expression. He wore a hoodie with no undershirt to avoid aggravating the closed wound on his back.

She’d gotten her first good look at it yesterday. It was a long, jagged scar held together by staples. IT was impossible to tell how much of the wound’s length was from the arrow and how much was from the surgeons’ scalpels when they removed the arrowhead. They had cut out most of the dead flesh during the surgery, but a black outline still surrounded the scar. Past that outline, his skin was red with scattered blisters. She finally realized why he was drinking so much water, too; he had several, scaly patches of dry skin over his back.

Komaru drove them home and they just barely managed to talk her out of staying and cooking them dinner. She wasn’t sure why Naegi didn’t want her there until she saw the front door. The sigil, the proud sigil that had protected them, had turned pure black. When Naegi poked a piece of it, it chipped off like dry paint and blew away in the wind.

“It was tied to his lifeforce,” Kirigiri said as her mind churned over the implications.

“Kyoko, your rosary. . .”

She shook her head. She hadn’t gone looking for it yet, but she doubted she’d find it lying in the backyard. “You were wearing yours when Tanaka attacked you, correct?”

“Yes. . .” Naegi paled, understanding. That rosary should have been with him when he was taken to the hospital, and thus should have been returned to him.

Yet here they were. Back at the beginning.

Naegi said, “Maybe Tanaka’s stuff is still there. We could reapply it ourselves.”

“With what magic?” Kirigiri asked.

“Tanaka never said he was magical,” Naegi said hopefully. “Maybe it’s fine as long as you have all the materials.”

She almost face-palmed. “He literally called himself a sorcerer.”

“Oh, yeah.”

They removed his hoodie in the bedroom carefully, Kirigiri pinching the back and pulling it away from his body before they pulled it over his head. She didn’t dare touch the scar, but she could stroke the skin near it.

She said, “It’s so close to your heart. It’s a miracle it didn’t pierce any organs.”

“Yeah.” He shivered. She wondered if it was from imagining the scenario she had suggested, or from her heat against his flesh. “Tanaka’s protection is gone though. It’s all going to start all over again.”

She frowned. She couldn’t deal with that stress right now. “We can worry about that tomorrow.”

“But if they. . .”

She shushed him, pressing her finger against his lips. “Not today. They’ll leave us alone today.”

She didn’t know if that was true, but she wanted so _badly_ for it to be so. Hope’s Peak had admitted they hadn’t wanted this, so surely, they would wait for Naegi to recover before proceeding with whatever their plan was. Surely, Naegi and her had one night before the storm broke. Tomorrow they would be back in hell, but for now, for this moment . . . maybe they could have peace.

 _The last day before the war_ , she thought, the world spinning around her. Her fingers were trembling. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips into his before he could protest. He melted into her. The world continued to spin, and she could barely take advantage of the opening.

“Kyoko, I . . .”

She shushed him and pressed into him more insistently. She didn’t want to hear words. She didn’t want him capable of speech.

She wasn’t sure who led. She took the first steps, but he gave way so readily it was as if he was purposely luring her in. His hands were already under her shirt, skimming the bottom of her bra. Fine. One hand splayed over his stomach, the other cradled his head and held it in place. If he wanted to tease her, she would tease back. Her thigh found its way between his legs, pressing insistently as the touch on his stomach slowly moved upward.

She drew back from the kiss to breathe. But Naegi must have been cheating and breathing through his nose because she barely got half a breath before his mouth sealed hers. His arms snaked around her, tightening in a challenge he knew would provoke a response. Her breath hitched. His hips twitched as her thigh rubbed against him.

With their legs and bodies intertwined, balance was an afterthought. They fell onto the bed, Kirigiri astride him. Her teeth scraped against him as she made her way to his neck, where she bit down. Not hard enough to bleed, more like a kiss than anything, but with enough pressure to be recognized as the primal claiming it was. He mewled, the sound rising and falling with the tones of lust, seeping into her own mind and making it hazy. She was drowning in heat as she pulled back and guided his fingers to her buttons because only one of them being shirtless just wasn’t fair.

“Kyoko . . .?”

What a silly boy. Needing to ask. He must have known that too because even as he said that, even as he watched her with that hesitation and question in his eyes, his fingers were still undressing her.

She snapped her jacket off with a flourish, wiping all questions from his mind. Her collar, her sleeves, her waistband, it was all too tight; everything was too tight. She took that strain out on him in furious, open-mouth kisses, a reward for the way he reached down and pulled her shirt over her head.

She unclipped her bra and threw it away. She didn’t need to turn on the light to navigate; the map of his body was one she had written herself. Her hands, her lips followed their assigned route. Across his chest and around his pecs; over to his back, straying from their path when his tongue rolled over her nipple; stopping when they encountered the obstacle, the scar that shouldn’t be. Now, she hesitated. Now, she questioned. Now Naegi shushed her and slipped his hand into her underwear.

She groaned, arching her back like a cat. Her legs intertwined with his, holding them down so their hips could meet and rub against each other. Her fingers made the last loop of their journey over his backside, and then back to the front again where they could pluck at the zipper.

“Kyoko.” Naegi moved under her in a way that was not part of the script.

“Makoto.” She tried to say that without pleading, without annoyance.

He shook his head. “No rigorous activity.”

“That’s an excuse, and you know it!” she snapped.

He looked slightly taken aback.

She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just. . . I don’t understand why I’m losing you.”

“You’re not losing me,” he protested. “I’m right here.”

She swallowed. “I am. I can feel us drifting further and further apart.”

He put his hands on either side of her face. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said. “So, please . . .”

She plucked at his waistband again. He pushed her away.

She let him up. Refusing to make eye contact, Naegi shuffled off the bed and walked toward the door.

“I’m sorry,” she rasped. “I didn’t mean it.”

He flicked the light off.

She sat there on the bed, alone and in the dark.

Naegi very firmly pushed her onto her back.

There was no time to make sense of what was happening. Naegi had slithered up her body, his tongue already slipping between her teeth, prodding furiously as if determined to make up for every second they had lost. His weight was not a physical pressure but a fluid, molding to her curves, encircling her body with his warmth. He was at the back of her pants, pulling, only lifting his body off hers long enough to slide the fabric past her hips. Fire pooled in her core as he aggressively rubbed against her.

“Please,” she gasped.

His head jerked in a little nod. His hand slipped into her undergarments again as his other one assisted her with lowering his own pants.

He had known better than her. In the dark, they could see no prying eyes. They could see no monsters closing in. There was only them, only her slick against his thigh, only the suction of his mouth on her breast. No sound but his groans and the panting that barely got her enough air. They moved slowly, careful not to collide, but there was a special intimacy to that as his lips hovered close to her flesh, navigating by the pulsing tension in that millimetre of space. Her gloves came off, tossed carelessly to the side as if they were simply another piece of clothing.

Naegi pulled back for an instant. She could not see his face, but his stare had its own presence, its own weight. It was so heavy with love and devotion that it crushed all words from her lungs. She spoke instead with a caress of his crotch, signaling it was time.

He settled on top of her again. As his finger penetrated her warmth, her body fell limp instantly, opening to him –

 _Riiiiinnnngggg_.

As her phone shrilly cried in the background, Naegi groaned, “Why does Togami _always_ call?”

His finger kept swirling inside her in rebellion. He turned on the bedside lamp with his other hand.

She grabbed his free wrist. “Don’t. Forget him.”

“But what if it’s about . . .” He bit his lip. “. . . _you know_.”

“He can wait ten minutes,” she said. She already had a hand on his upper arm to pull him back down.

Naegi lifted an eyebrow. “You think this is only going to take ten minutes?”

“You’re right. I’m being too generous.”

Naegi growled. Neither of them paid attention to the ringing phone.

“Do you really think you can pass ten?” she taunted, heart pounding in anticipation. She glanced at his lower body. “It looks to me like . . .”

She froze.

“Yes?” At first, he was puzzled. Then, he was _horrified_. “K-Kyoko, it’s not -!”

“How long?”

“I can explain. I will explain. Just calm down –”

“You. . . all this time . . .”

“It’s not what you think! Just listen to me!”

She couldn’t. Because all the evidence she needed was right in front of her, in the form of a lightning bolt-like tattoo on his thigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:   
> I think Kirigiri's a little upset.


	51. Chapter 51

“You didn’t have that before. You couldn’t have. I would have seen it,” she said softly. “How long?”

“I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything you want! But you have to believe me. I’m not with them. I’ve always been on your –”

“ _Answer the damn question!_ ” Their closeness suddenly hurt, and she shoved him back and off her.

He closed his eyes and shuddered. “It must have been while you were in the caverns.”

 _That_ place. The walls came rushing in, squeezing her to death. She grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around herself. “That’s what you were doing while I was down there: going through their initiation?”

“It wasn’t an initiation!” he cried. “I . . . I don’t think it was. I don’t remember . . .”

“You expect me to think it took you _two days_ to get that tattoo?” She reared up into his face, screeching at him until he fell backwards out of fear. “That’s right: I know. You and your _friends_ forgot about Togami-kun when you set up that gaslighting plan.”

“That can’t be right,” Naegi said. “I would have noticed. I would have remembered . . .”

His eyes widened. She slammed her hand into his chest and grabbed his shirt, making sure he couldn’t escape. She asked, “Why would you do this?”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” he said. “I would never do that to you. They tricked me! The tattoo . . . it must have been while I was sleeping! That’s it. That’s what happened.”

“So, you admit it was more than two hours?” she hissed.

“I . . .” He coughed as she leaned more weight onto his chest. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, I’m not saying you’re lying. . . I’m just trying to make it all make sense!”

“You’re pathetic,” she spat. She released him and leapt to the floor to find her clothes.

“Kyoko!” He rushed after her, making no move to cover himself. “I’m sorry! I thought I could handle it by myself. I’ve tried getting rid of it, but it keeps coming back . . .”

“You went up to the fifth floor,” she said monotonously.

He trembled. “Yes, I did. It wasn’t for a tattoo though. Yonaga-san had some artwork up there she wanted to show me. That’s all, I swear. You can ask Kamukura-kun. He was there, too!”

“Tell me about this artwork. What was it like?” When he hesitated, she snapped, “Go on.”

“It was beautiful. Really amazing. It just . . . it blew my mind. It wiped everything I was thinking away.”

“That’s it?” Kirigiri said. “That’s the most generic description I’ve ever heard. A kindergartener could have said that.”

“I did see it!” Naegi said. “I’m sorry I can’t describe it better, but I did see it. I just can’t remember. . . I can’t remember. . .”

“Before Tanaka went after you, do you know what he told me? He said you were their curse. What do you think that means, Naegi?”

He flinched at the use of his family name. “I don’t know. He’s got it wrong. I would never betray you. It’s just a tattoo. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s not just a tattoo and you know it. It doesn’t matter what it means, anyways. What matters is that you have it, and you’ve had it this whole time!”

“It’s not my fault! I’ve tried! It won’t go away –”

Her hand slammed into his throat this time. “Why the secrecy? It’s just a tattoo, _right_?”

“I-I couldn’t tell you about it!” His eyes seemed to be bulging, and she wasn’t sure whether it was from stress or she was putting too much pressure on his neck.

“Strange. Aren’t you on _my side_?” Her grip tightened on his neck, not enough to cut off airflow, but enough for him to be very aware it was there. “It’s just a tattoo, isn’t it? So, why couldn’t you tell . . .?”

“Because you were _insane!”_ He screamed, fingers digging into the hand around his neck. “You have to know that by now. You got too personally involved, and you still are! Every time someone brings it up, you get this crazy look in your eyes. That’s why you dropped the case, remember?”

“I remember getting _thrown off_ because someone tattled to Togami-kun.” Her pupils were pinpricks, her vision of the world a similar dot with Naegi at the center. “I remember getting stuck at that church because _someone_ dragged me through a swamp that sprained my ankle.”

“You think I did that on purpose?” he said quietly. With a sudden burst of strength, he shoved her arm aside. “You were the one that told me we should stay there. You’re the one who went there in the first place!”

“ _I went there because I can’t trust you!_ ”

“You can’t trust me?” he echoed, strangely cold as he closed himself off from her.

“No, I can’t.” Unconsciously, she mimicked his coldness. “I had suspicions – I _knew_ – ever since I got out of that cavern that you couldn’t be trusted. But I talked myself out of it. I convinced myself that I was wrong because how could you ever be anything but loyal? But once again, my suspicions were correct. So, tell me: who put you up to this? Have you been working with my grandfather? Is this the reason he wanted me to date you?”

“I don’t understand. What does Fuhito have to do with this?”

She sneered emotionlessly. “I don’t know. It couldn’t possibly have anything to do with him selling me out to them while I was a child.”

“He. . . what?”

For some reason, Naegi’s reaction brought Fuhito’s betrayal to the core, drove it in like a stake. Lost in that whirlwind of hurt and grief, she suddenly wanted him in pain, too.

“Komaeda Nagito killed your father.”

“What?” he said dumbly.

“He killed your father,” she repeated, pausing after each word like it was its own sentence. “Your father isn’t missing. He’s dead.”

Naegi shrunk back from her. “No. That’s wrong. My father isn’t dead.”

“There’s a police file on him,” she said coldly. “The reason you don’t know is because you were a minor at the time and your mother thought it best not to tell you.”

Naegi shook his head. “No. No, you’re wrong. He’s . . . he. . .”

“Dead.”

“No. No, no, no. . . It can’t be . . .”

“It is. It was him. They have a picture of Komaeda leaving the scene. Unless there’s another _thing_ walking around with that name and disguise.”

“It. . . it was him. He did it.” Naegi was shaking, pulling at his hair, rocking back and forth on his heel in a way that wasn’t natural.

And that finally snapped her out of it. “Makoto?”

“It was him.” Naegi dragged his nails down his temple, leaving white marks on the cusp of bleeding. “I saw him. He. . . he had teeth. . . He. . . _daddy_ . . .”

“Makoto?”

“I’m not him. I’m not like him. _I’m not like him!_ ”

She could barely understand his last words, so close were they to an animalistic howl. It didn’t help either that Naegi had curled into himself and was screaming into his chest. She had no idea what was going on and tried to stop him as he dug his nails into his own scalp. . .

Red broke across her vision. For a few seconds, it was all she could see. Then, her trembling hand wiped her eyes clean, wiped her forehead and came away covered in blood. She could feel them, the deep scratches carved into her flesh.

 _Drip. Drip_. Her blood fell onto the floor. She wasn’t scared because she didn’t understand.

“Ky-Kyoko?”

Then she understood. Then she saw the blood smeared across his hands.

“Get out,” she said emotionlessly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”

“ _GET OUT!_ ” She threw the nearest thing – her own jacket – at him. Then she turned his back to him, focusing on the growing pool of blood, trying to remember how to care take of the wound. She could hear Naegi scrambling to gather his things behind her, the opening and closing of something, then the rapid slaps of his feet as he ran out of the room. A minute or so later, the front door slammed.

She had sutures in the bathroom. She knew how to use them. Robotically, she found them and stitch by stitch, closed the cuts. It wasn’t neat; she was suturing her own forehead. No matter how she brushed her hair, she couldn’t cover them afterwards. Everyone would see and when they asked, she would say. . . she would have to say . . .

It wasn’t blood dripping onto the floor this time, but tears.

* * *

There was no hiding it. No running away. The police station didn’t allow hats.

Kirigiri stood outside the door, twisting her braid around her finger. She had gotten here unmolested, holding an ugly hat (the only one she owned apparently) down against her ears the entire way so that it covered the gashes. However, she’d been so concerned with reaching the station, she hadn’t thought much about what to do when she got there. On a normal day, she would have worn the hat– let Togami try to punish her for that. However, in the wake of the Hope’s Peak case, she had tried his patience so much that she feared he might actually care.

She gingerly took off her hat and wrung it between her hands. Mentally, she went over the script she’d invented to explain her injuries. She pushed her bangs over them, even though she knew it would do little good. When she walked into the station, she did so with hunched shoulders and a wary walk, the stance of one not in the mood for company. She had hoped that people wouldn’t pay her much attention, as she wasn’t exactly known for socialness, but she had also forgotten the rumors flying around about her sanity. Surely, with the number of glances she received (ones where the perpetrators quickly looked away when they saw her looking), that was coming into play.

“Oh, Kirigiri-san!” Koizumi just happened to be walking out of a door Kirigiri was walking past. “I didn’t think you’d be in today. I heard about Naegi-kun and . . .”

Though Koizumi said nothing, it was obvious where her attention laid. Kirigiri stared at her coldly, daring her to say something stupid.

“I didn’t know you were injured, too,” Koizumi said.

“. . . It was a cat,” she said, as she had blanked on the script she had prepared.

Koizumi winced in sympathy. “Are you sure it wasn’t a lion?”

Kirigiri didn’t smile.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll leave you to your work. Feel better!”

She wished Koizumi hadn’t said those last words because they had drawn attention. Kirigiri walked faster, making a beeline for Togami’s office. If her icy exterior wasn’t enough to ward off the buzzards, then realizing she was heading toward the sharp-tongue Togami would. She barely managed to avoid Oogami Sakura who was trying to say hello, and then shut herself in Togami’s office.

“You’re here?” Togami said, looking up from his paperwork. “Why aren’t you with . . .?”

He leaned forward to peer at her forehead.

“It’s fine,” she said coldly. “I took care of it. You have a case for me?”

“You two really do have the most godawful luck I’ve ever seen,” Togami said. “Here, take it. I just finished organizing the original report and witness statements.”

She snatched up the folder he slid across the desk and left.

Once she was secure in her office, she locked the door. Then asked herself why she did that. After convincing herself that Hope’s Peak wasn’t going to come after her in her _own damn office_ , she left it unlocked. There, she examined the case. As she read over the report and statements, she could feel her brain working, snapping together facts and possibilities and laying out a series of paths for her to follow. It was such a refreshingly, brilliant feeling after that last shitstorm of a case.

“This is too easy. Togami-kun clearly didn’t meant to give this to me.”

Silence.

She looked around in confusion. Then, she remembered: Naegi wasn’t here. Naegi had left her, and he hadn’t returned.

She stood. Fine. So be it. She had worked alone in her early years; her skills hadn’t decayed to the point where she couldn’t again. Those poor suspects just had more reason to be afraid of her.

(Boy, did they ever.)

When she returned to the station at the end of the day, she handed Togami’s case to him on a silver platter. He glanced at her and skimmed her notes. Then really looked at them. Then looked at them again.

“It’s done,” he said.

“Yes. If you have your officers gather the evidence I listed on page four, then you should be able to hand this one off to the prosecutors.”

“That was a day. Not even a full twenty-four hours!”

“I know,” she said blandly.

He steepled his fingers. “Why do I keep giving you the hard cases? If I gave you the easy ones, I could double this department’s output!”

“Don’t,” she said.

“You’re not listening,” Togami said. “Do you know what would happen if that were to occur? No, of course not, you have no sense for business. We’d hit the news. The government would be pleased and naturally, they’d give the mayor their favour. And do you know what happens when the local government owes their prestige to us? We get more money.”

“Doesn’t this station already have the third-highest funding in the country?”

Togami slammed his hand onto the desk. “Yes, and it’s infuriating!”

“I see. Well, try that tactic if you must, but it’ll only work for a while because then you’ll lose your very bored detective and your monthly quota will be worse than it began.”

“Maybe if I mix them up. . .” Togami was muttering to himself. “Fifty-fifty split. I could try that.”

If she stayed any longer and humoured him, he might try that. “Goodnight.”

“How’s Naegi?” Togami asked as she reached the door.

She swallowed.

“That bad?” he said when she couldn’t answer.

“I . . . Don’t expect him to come in anytime soon.”

She could feel him nod. “Should be an easy case for workplace compensation.”

Her heart ice, she walked out of his office.

In all honestly, she had expected Naegi to be waiting for her when she returned home. But there were no shoes by the door, no jacket on the coat rack. The key rack was exactly as she had left it. For the better, it was, as she hadn’t really thought about what she would do if he had returned.

She tried not to think about him, but she couldn’t help it. She already suspected where he was: at his sister’s, or Maizono’s, or his mother’s house. If she called, none of them would reveal the truth unless he gave them permission. And why should she go looking for him anyways? He was at fault, not her. He was the one who needed to come crawling back to her; she shouldn’t trail after him like a lost puppy?

(And if he did come back, what then? Could she forgive him? Trust him? Sleep next to him knowing what he was beholden to?)

She had once assumed Naegi and her were endless, that he would be the constant in her life that she could hold onto. But like so many other things in her life, that had turned out to be a lie.

She took out her phone and scrolled through the contacts. She needed to begin anew, to start a life free of the whims of these shadowy forces.

“Would you . . . like to come over for coffee?” she over the phone to ~~Jin~~ her father.

Of course, he said yes. (How long had he been waiting to hear that?)

Jin arrived so quickly that she half-suspected him of staking out her door. (God, she knew he wasn’t with Hope’s Peak? Couldn’t she go one day without wondering if everyone was betraying her? Though Naegi was supposed to be safe, too . . .) She may have known he was innocent, she may have known he was one of the very few people that would believe her when it came to the truth, but she had spent so much of her life loathing or not caring about him that when she saw him, she still had to bite back a sneer. She had never been one for socialness, and neither had . . . the person who had raised her. Jin, however, appeared to have skipped that gene. He glowed with an aura more suited to an Asahina than a Kirigiri or Togami, and she didn’t know how to handle that.

But like an Asahina, Jin didn’t care. He greeted her as if they visited every month, walked inside and looked around like he had stepped into a museum. She was suddenly self-conscious of the dust on the picture frames.

“Nice and comfortable,” was Jin’s assessment.

“I was extremely busy with my last case. I haven’t had the time to maintain the household properly,” she said, conveniently leaving out that Naegi usually took the bulk of that work upon himself anyways.

“Still cleaner than mine,” Jin said. “I guess that’s what happens when you lack a woman’s touch.”

What a dumb statement. (It still made her feel better.)

“. . . What kind of coffee you do you like?” she asked lamely.

“Civet,” Jin said. “Strange, I know. It’s an acquired taste.”

“We have some.” She declined to inform him that was her favourite, as she wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

Despite her misgivings, everything seemed to be going well. She led Jin into the kitchen, perfectly kept her composure as she set the kettle and he tried to ask personal questions.

But then he had to say it.

“So, where’s Naegi-kun?”

Of course. Of course, everyone would immediately notice he wasn’t attached to her side. She should have expected that.

Somehow, she didn’t break. “He’s not here.”

“Oh? Is he off visiting friends?”

She didn’t dare move. “. . .I don’t think he’ll ever be back.”

* * *

Later that day, after that disastrous conversation (Why had she invited him before she knew how to address those questions?), she retired to her bedroom. It was there she made her next discovery:

The gun in the nightstand drawer was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“I’m sorry! I thought I could handle it by myself. I’ve tried getting rid of it, but it keeps coming back . . .”_  
>  And that's why Kirigiri found a bunch of blood in the bathroom that one time. I think Myotry gets the internet points for figuring that out.
> 
> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri races to find Naegi before he does something stupid.
> 
> PS. If you're wondering what Togami had called about last chapter, the conversation would have gone like this:
> 
> Kiri: What?  
> Togami: I heard Naegi got out of the hospital. How is he?  
> Kiri: ... I can't believe you called for that. Makoto, _don't you dare put that shirt on!_ *immediate hang up*


	52. Chapter 52

“Open up! Naegi Komaru, I know you’re home. I saw you pull down the blinds!”

She’d probably woken up everyone in the neighbourhood with her knocking. Still, she kept knocking. Naegi Komaru was home, Naegi Komaru _would_ answer this door. For her own sake, she’d better do it before Kirigiri used the police card.

Too late, Kirigiri was using it. “Naegi Komaru, this is the police! Open this door.”

Not long after, the front door swung open. Scowling, Komaru hissed, “Kirigiri-san! All my neighbours are going to think –”

She pushed past Komaru into the house. “Where is he?”

“Oh, you’re mad. You’re really mad.” Komaru had one foot out the door, as if thinking about taking off and leaving Naegi to fend for himself. “I know my brother can be really dumb sometimes, but . . .”

“Makoto!” Kirigiri snapped out upon seeing a small figure at the end of the hall. The figure disappeared behind a corner barely a second later, but she had seen him. She marched through the hallway, whipped around that corner and . . .

Oh. It was only Fukawa.

“I kn-knew it,” Fukawa mumbled. “That sappy romance between you two was too good to be true. So, who’s the b-bimbo he cheated with?”

“Makoto wouldn’t do that!” Komaru said loyally, although going by how she glanced Kirigiri’s way, she regretted it.

“D-don’t be ridiculous. He’s still a teenager inside. He’s a raging mass of hormones paired up w-with a workaholic. How do you he spends his nights? He acts nice, but get him alone. . .”

“You know, you always accuse me of having a brother complex, but I think you’re the one creeping on him!”

“He didn’t cheat on me,” Kirigiri said, not out of obligation to tell the truth, but because she didn’t want to hear anymore of that from Fukawa.

Fukawa adjusted her glasses. “So, you cheated on him? What, you finally realized you needed a strong man who could dominate. . .?”

“Nobody cheated on anyone!” she snapped.

Komaru said, “Then why are you so angry. . .? Oh my god, you found out about his calls to your father!”

“No, that’s not . . . Say that again.”

“Oops,” Komaru squeaked.

“Idiot,” Fukawa muttered.

Whatever. She didn’t care. It was such a Makoto thing to do that it didn’t catch her off-guard. “Where is he?”

“I know you’re really mad at him, but maybe you should wait,” Komaru suggested. “You’re scary right now, and my brother’s kind of a big baby.”

“He has a gun.”

“What?” Both Komaru and Fukawa said that, staring at her with mouths agape.

She closed her eyes. Tightened her fists. “There was a gun in the nightstand drawer. It’s gone. He’s the only one who could have taken it.” (Because Hope’s Peak didn’t need one.)

“No way. You’re trying to trick me into telling where he is. I’m on to you!” Komaru pointed accusingly at her. “My brother doesn’t need a gun.”

But even as Komaru confidently asserted her theory, Fukawa carefully peered Kirigiri’s way. She wore a scowl, but not her usual one of disdain and projection, but one of genuine concern.

“You’re serious,” Fukawa said. “He did take your gun, and. . . You think there’s someone he’s willing to use it on.”

“No. _No_! My brother wouldn’t shoot anybody. He took it because he was afraid you were going to become a yandere. I knew I shouldn’t have lent him my manga. . .”

Recognizing that Fukawa was the reasonable party, Kirigiri asked her, “Please tell me where he is.”

“I d-don’t know the exact location,” Fukawa said as she swirled hair around her finger. “He and Maizono went out to a pub or something.”

Maizono Sayaka. A sensible woman. Someone intelligent with great instincts who genuinely cared for Naegi. She’d keep an eye on him and wouldn’t let him do anything stupid. If Naegi was indeed with her, then he wasn’t going after Hope’s Peak.

“Call them. I can’t call myself or he’ll hide the gun if he does have it with him. I’ll assume he’s been staying here.”

“Guestroom,” Fukawa said promptly.

Meanwhile, Komaru was staring at her phone. In a voice almost too quiet to hear, she said, “I’ll call Maizono-san.”

Kirigiri turned away “I’m going to search the guest room. If I find the gun, I’ll leave him alone.”

Komaru gulped. “When you say that, do you mean . . .?”

“. . . It doesn’t matter,” she said eventually.

She didn’t find the gun. Komaru’s guest room was not a place she was familiar with, but she knew Naegi and his preferences when it came to hiding spots, so she was certain it wasn’t here. She dragged a hand through her hair in stress. That meant it was on him. Why? Was it for offense or defense? Was Naegi naïve enough to think a gun could hold off demons?

By the looks of it, Naegi hadn’t taken much with him when he left the house. That didn’t surprise her given the situation in which he had ran out. He had no belongings she could sift through apart from some extra clothes.

It was because she had so little to go through that she noticed it: a small envelope slid halfway under the window. She could think of no innocent reason for Komaru or Naegi to put a letter there.

She took the letter and tore it open.

 

_Does it hurt? You knew this would happen. Did you really think you two were meant to be? It was always going to be this way. You can’t fight fate, Naegi Makoto._

She recognized the font, the letter style. These matches the letters found in Hinata and Nanami’s apartment. Unlike those ones, however, this letter wasn’t friendly at all. Quite the opposite. It was a taunt.

Hairs rose on the back her neck. Few reasons existed to taunt someone, and she doubted Hope’s Peak just wanted to rub in their victory for pleasure. Hinata Hajime and Nanami Chiaki both received letters urging them to find Hope’s Peak, letters that lured them in. When it came to intentions, was this letter any different? The only bright side was that its position suggested Naegi hadn’t seen it. That didn’t change the intent though; they were hunting him, as they had pursued Nanami and Hinata, and look at how those two had ended up. It was even more crucial that she find him quickly.

But then what? Was she supposed to take him back? Mask her intentions under the guise of forgiveness? She couldn’t do that. Even if she were willing, Naegi knew her too well and would ferret out the truth. At the same time, she couldn’t abandon him to this. Even he if had gotten that tattoo and brought it on himself, it would be immoral.

What about Togami? He was the police chief; he had plenty of resources to pour into Naegi’s protection. If she told him, he hated Hope’s Peak enough that even if he didn’t believe the danger Kirigiri said he was in, he would protect Naegi out of spite. Yes, this was a plan. Find Naegi. Retrieve the gun from that idiot. Let him know he was in danger, then inform Togami. Then she could move on with her life and once again attempt to leave this Hope’s Peak business behind her.

She harassed Komaru for the pub Maizono had taken Naegi to, then walked out. Of course, Maizono had a car and hadn’t gone anywhere close, so she might have bullied Komaru into handing over her car keys as well. The car squealed as it raced down the road, taking the turns so fast that she would have flown out of her seat if she hadn’t worn a seatbelt.

The damn pub didn’t have any parking available and she had to park two blocks away. What she would have given to be driving a police car, so she could have parked on the sidewalk instead. As she stepped inside the pub, she automatically tried to pull her jacket up like a hoodie to cover her head. She didn’t like being recognized in these places; occasionally, somebody she had arrested ended up here.

The pub wasn’t small, but it wasn’t too large either. More importantly, it was cramped. She hadn’t known as she hadn’t cared, but today was a big sport’s night. About every table was full. As she passed by the bar, someone – who knew which team it was? – scored and the pub erupted in cheers. It made the cramped space seem even more congested. She felt like a crusty old man watching boisterous teenagers drinking in the park.

She doubted Naegi would be very interested in sports. Maizono had certainly intended to speak with him so they would be somewhere quieter. At the same time, she would have chosen this place on such a night so that Naegi would be surrounded by, and perhaps infected by, the energy of the others. They would sit somewhere with a good view of the audience, which mean they were at a table against a wall. She looked upward, counted the televisions and surveyed the areas they served. Once she found the corner with the least amount of coverage, she headed that way.

There they were. Naegi nursed a scotch while Maizono spoke to him between sips of her cocktail. He looked depressed and she reminded herself that he deserved it.

He saw her first. With that flash of panic in his eyes, it was only a matter of seconds before Maizono looked her way. Kirigiri saw her thoughts on her face: first, surprise. Then apprehension as she wondered what Kirigiri was doing here. Finally, concern as she saw Kirigiri’s determined approach. Maizono slipped out of her seat, elegantly placed herself in the space between two tables Kirigiri had aimed for and blocked the way.

“Why don’t we meet you outside?” Maizono suggested. “This place is too loud for a proper conversation.”

“No. I’m not giving him a chance to run away.”

Maizono’s expression hardened. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through enough? Maybe you two should give each other space first.”

“He. . .” She stopped herself, then leaned in close and whispered so no one would overhear and start a panic. “He has a gun with him.”

She had to give credit to Maizono’s acting. She didn’t flinch, not even when a sudden thump came from somewhere. “Please don’t make accusations like that.”

“The evidence backs me up,” Kirigiri said. “The gun in question was in my nightstand drawer and disappeared when he left. The fact of the matter is that he is harbouring a hatred of an unparalleled intensity toward the pastor of Hope’s Peak, Komaeda Nagito. This case has gotten to him well beyond your understanding. He is so scared of them coming after us that he let the same vagrant who shot him live on our rooftop without telling me. Furthermore, I actually do have evidence that Hope’s Peak is targeting him.”

The mask couldn’t hold this time. The information had been too fast, too heavy. Something like fear flickered across Maizono’s face.

“I’m here for the gun, so he doesn’t act on his need to protect himself,” Kirigiri said. “I am here to warn him, so he can take appropriate action. I am not here to discuss our relationship.”

“I didn’t know this had gotten so dangerous. Let’s exchange the gun outside so nobody else sees.” Maizono turned around. “Makoto. . .?”

But Naegi wasn’t there.

“. . . I can’t believe he actually hid in the washroom. Wait here. I’ll flush him out.” Maizono said. She walked off and approached a male staffer, no doubt asking him to check the restrooms for her. Kirigiri turned her attention to the noisy, complaining crowd as someone missed a goal.

Her phone rang. Naegi’s name was on the caller ID.

She picked up. “Where are you?”

He didn’t say anything. Maybe he had accidentally hit her number while trying to call Maizono or Komaru? His luck made that a real possibility.

Then, from the other side of the phone, there was a voice:

“ _Consider your duty fulfilled, Kirigiri Kyoko._ ”

She dropped the phone.

At the same time, Maizono hurried back, looking harried. “He’s not in there. I think he ran out of the pub.”

“There,” she said swiftly, pointing at an emergency exit that would have let him escape without trying to sneak past them. The sign on the door said it was alarmed . . . Yeah, right. She shoved it open and the two of them stumbled out into an alleyway.

The alleyway was a narrow, smelly place where a discoloured interface between the walls and ground. Four dumpsters and one for recycling were lined up against the wall. There were gaps between them, but Naegi wasn’t in there and they were close too close to the ground to squeeze underneath. Of course, that assumed he would be willing to do so. The backend of the alleyway was blocked off by a wooden fence; the other mouth led to the street that held the pub’s entrance. A single security camera had been mounted near that corner, pointing back toward the side exit.

“Makoto!”

There was no answer.

 _Ring_.

She automatically patted her pocket before remembering her phone was still inside. Maizono had her phone out, but the sound wasn’t coming from there. Kirigiri tracked the ringing to the ground, to an abandoned cellphone bearing the caller ID of ‘Sayaka.’

“That’s his phone,” Maizono whispered.

She said nothing. She examined the space around the phone, looking for clues as to why it was here. A glint of metal caught her eye. She reached for it and . . . Please don’t let that be what she thought it was.

“Kirigiri-san?” Maizono asked after Kirigiri stared at the object in her hand for too long.

“. . . It’s a bullet casing.” She had a horrible suspicion. “Maizono-san, shine a light at the back fence.”

Maizono did and the moment she did, Kirigiri saw the bullet hole.

“Inside. Now!” She grabbed the pale-faced Maizono by the shoulder and shoved her toward the side entrance. Of course, the damn thing didn’t open from the outside. They ran back to the entrance and pushed their way inside.

“Stay inside,” Kirigiri ordered once she scooped her phone off the ground. “Check the tables. If you see him, call me. If you don’t, call the police and tell them we believe there is a kidnapping in process.”

She skipped out the side-entrance again, ignoring the employee shouting after her. She didn’t have much time. She ran up to the fence and rubbed it. Smooth. No footholds. Adrenaline would allow someone to leap high enough to scramble over it, but with another in tow? No. Although that only applied to humans. For something like Komaeda? All bets were off.

As she thought that, she began to panic. Their enemies at Hope’s Peak weren’t human. She had no idea what they were capable of and of what their physical limitations were. She couldn’t approach this like a normal case; she couldn’t make logical deductions because she had no idea what rules of nature applied to them. Her highly-trained skills were useless. She couldn’t even say which one of them had ambushed him.

No, that wasn’t true. Because there was only one person at Hope’s Peak that Naegi would be willing to pull a gun on.

She pulled up the number for Hope’s Peak. Komaeda was supposed to oversee that phone. Time to find out where he was.

On the sixth ring, someone picked up. But the confused, tired greeting did not sound anything like Komaeda.

“Who is this?” she asked.

“Kamukura Izuru. Kirigiri? Is that you?”

“I need to speak to Komaeda. Now.”

Kamukura shifted. “I’d like to help, but he’s busy.”

“With what?”

“Church stuff. Why? Was there something you needed?”

She didn’t ask what Komaeda was doing. That would be too obvious. “When will he be back?”

“I don’t know how long this will take him. What do you want? Maybe he can call you back –”

She hung up.

“Hey! Hey, you!” A pub employee, the designated bouncer by the looks of it, was approaching her. “You can’t keep running in and out of there.”

“I am Detective Kirigiri Kyoko,” she said, thrusting her badge into his face. “I’m on call for a kidnapping and possible shooting that took place here mere minutes ago. I need the security footage from that camera from the last half hour.”

“You . . .” For such a big man, he stuttered like a child. “I don’t think. . .”

“Why don’t you get your manager to deal with this?” she suggested waspishly.

He scurried off. She turned on her cellphone light and scanned the ground. No blood. No footprints. No evidence. She hoisted herself up to the top of the wooden fence. The other side held another section of the alleyway with another entrance into the street. An easy escape route.

“Kirigiri-san, was it?”

The scrawny manager stood before her, wringing his hands, pulsing with so much anxiety that even her dropping off the fence made him take a step back.

“Do you have the footage?” she demanded.

“Is it true?” the manager asked. “We didn’t hear anything. No one reported a shot. . .”

“I don’t have time for this. Do you have the footage, or is the establishment refusing to cooperate with the police?”

“Th-this way.” As the manager said that, she heard sirens on the horizon.

By the time she went inside, dealt with Maizono and told the manager _exactly_ what would happen to him if he didn’t fully cooperate, a police car pulled up. The red and blue lights shone through the windows, earning confused murmurs from the customers that only increased when Asahina and Oogami ran into the building. They skidded to a stop, striking a pose like action heroes.

“Okay, we’re at the scene!” Asahina said into her walkie-talkie. “Where’s the bad guys?”

Kirigiri stepped forward.

“Hah, I knew you were here,” Asahina said to her, raising her fists. “This guy is totally going down, Sakura-chan!”

“Where do you need us?” Oogami asked.

 _Patrol the streets. Look for him. Don’t rest until he is brought home_. All that flowed through her head, but the only thing she could say aloud was, “It’s Makoto.”

Asahina lowered her fists again. “Huh?”

She waved them closer, so everybody wouldn’t overhear. “Makoto’s the victim.”

Asahina’s eyes widened in horror. “Wait, so you mean when the operator said it was him. . .”

“She meant he was the victim, not the caller,” Oogami said.

“It was Komaeda Nagito,” Kirigiri said. “It must have been him. You’ll see once we get that footage. Unless they wiped it again.”

Oogami gave her a strange look.

“It’s this way,” the manager said.

They retreated to his office, where Kirigiri immediately kicked the manager out before he even showed her how to use the device. She didn’t need his explanation; this wasn’t her first time using security equipment and these controls seemed intuitive. She jumped the video back then minutes and pressed play. On either side of her, Asahina and Oogami shuffled in closer for a better look.

. . . She had already ruined this. Outsiders were here watching the footage with her, which meant Hope’s Peak would wipe it. _Stupid!_ She had ruined the once piece of evidence she had. What was she supposed to do now. . .?

“There he is!”

What? She looked at the video. Indeed, Naegi was there. They hadn’t erased it. She saw Naegi outside in the alleyway, backing up from the side entrance, suggesting he had just ran outside and fleeing from her was his main concern. He rubbed his arm, as if cold, and peeked toward the street. Then, he froze. He whirled around in once smooth movement, facing the wooden fence, facing the spot where she had found a bullet hole. There was no one else seen in the footage, but it didn’t show the back part of the alleyway. If Komaeda had been near the fence, he wouldn’t have been caught on film.

Naegi spread his stance. He had fled from her, but he wasn’t fleeing from Komaeda and with a pang, she wondered if she was why. Was he still protective enough of her that he refused to run away and place her in a situation where Komaeda could catch her alone?

The security footage had no sound, and the quality didn’t allow her to read his lips. Whatever the conversation was about though, it ended with Naegi stepping back and pulling out the gun. Asahina gasped as he did; she couldn’t blame them. His lips moved rapidly, his arms shook, and she still couldn’t see who he was walking to.

 _Come on, Makoto,_ she thought. _Get him into the light. Give me something I can use._

The gun’s muzzle flashed.

“D-did he just shoot?” Asahina squealed.

“He missed,” Kirigiri assured them, even if she would have preferred that he hadn’t.

Naegi was stock-still. That wasn’t a typical reaction to missing a shot, more like one of pure shock.

 _. . . No, he didn’t miss._ Yet there had been no blood outside.

Naegi stepped forward slowly and she knew for sure that his bullet had met its mark. He stood there, gun lowered, staring at something offscreen.

And then he spun around and _lunged_ for the side entrance, the one he couldn’t have known was locked. He yanked at the handle and pounded once on the door. Then, he was suddenly swept off his feet and tumbled down the steps. Near the bottom, he tried to rise, but instead was simply dragged offscreen by nothing.

All was still.

“What the hell?” Asahina said.

“I don’t know,” Kirigiri said. She rewound those last few seconds and played them over and over as Oogami tried to calm Asahina in the background.

Finally, she saw it. For the entirety of the film, Naegi was the only one in it. But that didn’t mean he was the only thing moving. She saw it while he grappled with the door: long, wispy shadows creeping their way across the wall, dipping down toward his legs. They converged and collapsed on him like an octopus ensnaring its prey. She tried to show the other two, but they couldn’t see it. Of course, they couldn’t see it. They didn’t _understand_.

“Kirigiri-san, where you going?” Asahina called after her.

“I’m rescuing Makoto,” she barked back.

“You know where to go?” Oogami said.

“I told you it was Komaeda Nagito. Are you two going to help me, or not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting writing the last chapter yesterday. The end be nigh.
> 
> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri storms the church.


	53. Chapter 53

They approached the church with sirens off, as per Kirigiri’s instructions. It didn’t matter, she knew, as Hope’s Peak had probably detected her coming, but it would help get across the danger of the situation to Asahina and Oogami. They had no idea what they were dealing with and she couldn’t explain; however, Asahina was nursing a grudge over the death of her coworkers. It meant she would have Kirigiri’s back, but also put her at risk of launching an unwise attack.

Oogami shifted the car into park. “We are here.”

Asahina cracked her knuckles. “Let’s kick their butts.”

From the backseat, Kirigiri grabbed Asahina’s arm as she reached for the door. “Stop. Listen to me closely. We are not going to run in there with guns blazing. You will let me handle this. If necessary, we’ll take them out, but I need to scope out the situation first. Komaeda may not had returned yet.”

“I know, I know,” Asahina said. “Sheesh, you treat me like a little kid.”

“Kirigiri-san forgive me, but I still do not understand,” Oogami said. “How did you figure out Komaeda Nagito kidnapped him?”

“There’s no other explanation,” she said. “Makoto had a gun. It was for Komaeda Nagito.”

“What do you mean?” Asahina asked. “Isn’t he carrying that around because he’s a cop? Naegi-kun wouldn’t go around shooting people.”

Oogami side-eyed her. “Do you mean to say that you carry your firearm when you are off-duty?”

“No, I’m not that stupid. Togami would have my ass,” Asahina said. “But Naegi-kun is Kirigiri-san’s partner, so I bet he has tons of enemies.”

“Makoto doesn’t usually carry a weapon for self-defence,” Kirigiri said, frustrated because that was so obvious. “He was going after Komaeda Nagito.”

“. . . Now I’m confused,” Asahina said. “There’s no way that’s right. I don’t even hate them that much and this is _Naegi_. What could Komaeda have done to piss him off so much?”

“He’s in charge of _Hope’s Peak_.” Kirigiri said that like it was obvious, and then remembered that it wasn’t to them. “We can start with Owada Mondo and Fujisaki Chihiro.”

“But neither of them were murdered,” Oogami said.

“They were!” Her nails dug into the shoulder of the driver’s seat like claws. “Hope’s Peak murdered both of them.”

“Didn’t Fujisaki-kun die of a brain aneurysm?” Asahina asked, her head tilted to one side.

“Which they gave to him,” Kirigiri snapped. “Not directly, but through that scripture of theirs. Fujisaki wasn’t prepared to read was inside and it destroyed his brain. That’s the truth. It’s what happened to Owada-kun, too.”

Asahina stared at her for a long moment, then tugged on Oogami’s sleeve and whispered, “Sakura-chan, I don’t get it.”

Oogami didn’t answer Asahina, instead asking Kirigiri, “Naegi-kun agrees with your version of events?”

“He. . . I might not have told him,” she admitted. “I thought he might have been a traitor at the time. He is a traitor, but I’m not abandoning him to them.”

“How is Naegi-kun a traitor?”

“Because he’s with them!” The very memory made her heart sting, made her ribs tighten and an iron collar squeeze around her throat. “When he betrayed me and went to Togami-kun behind my back, I thought he had done so because I had been acting irrationally. I thought he was acting in my favour, but I was wrong. He let them _mark_ him while I starved in a cave, and then had the nerve to lie when I escaped. That’s why I threw him out.”

She said that last part in a single breath that was a pant. Even though her actions made sense, a good chunk of her rebelled at the memory. Her stomach lurched with a feeling so nauseous she almost threw up. Eyes closed, she muttered that last sentence again to beat her rebellious side into submission.

Oogami reached for her. “Kirigiri-san . . .”

“We’ve wasted too much time!” she snapped. “I’m going in.”

She stepped outside the car and shut the door in the middle of Asahina and Oogami’s exclamation. Halfway to the church, she checked behind her. Good. They were following. Usually, having others around was a burden, but in this case, she was glad for the backup. Maybe Komaeda would hesitate before pulling out his unearthly bullshit.

The front door was unlocked – naturally, it wasn’t like they had anything to fear from the outside – and she flung it open. The sound of the door slamming into the wall echoed in the vast hall. She stormed inside, passing under the archways decorated with their jagged, taunting writing. The fibres of the inky-black carpet scratched her ankles. She walked up to the chancel and glowered at the purple and black – the Atua-like – monstrosity engraved on the stained glass. Tonight, she would surely have pleasant dreams of throwing a rock through it.

“Komaeda!” she hollered. “Where are you?”

The last syllable of her demand echoed. She stood upon the chancel like a queen, but only Asahina and Oogami were there as her witnesses. Was Hope’s Peak ignoring her? Did they honestly believe she would give up and go home?

She called out two more times before someone finally arrived. Kamukura emerged from the staircase, blinking owlishly. He sighed when he saw what was happening.

“I told you Nagito’s busy,” he said. “If it’s that important, tell me and I’ll pass it on to him.”

“You know exactly why I’m here. Where is he?”

Kamukura scowled. “Why does everyone assume I have a tracker with Nagito’s name on it?”

“Not him. _Makoto!_ ”

Kamukura schooled his expression. “I can’t tell you that. Aren’t you the one that always knows?”

He was playing dumb. Fine. She could work around that.

The gun slipped into her hand so easily when she pointed it at Kamukura. Asahina and Oogami made noise, but Kamukura himself simply frowned. He studied the gun, then her.

She grinned in triumph. “You’re not afraid.”

“. . . What?” Kamukura said, not having figured out her trap yet.

“There is only one reason not to fear a gun: you know it won’t affect you.” She stalked toward him. “Makoto shot something, and it didn’t die. It didn’t appear to be hurt, which means it also isn’t affected by bullets. Do you see what I am saying? You’ve just proven that Hope’s Peak kidnapped him!”

She raised the gun again and leveled it at his forehead. “I could pull the trigger, and you wouldn’t die. That’s the proof I need.”

Kamukura was silent. He edged sideways so he was out of the gun’s sights. She moved her arm to follow him.

Or she tried to, at least. But something large and powerful snapped shut around her wrist and yanked it the other way. She thought Komaeda had finally reared his head, but her attacker was none other than Oogami.

“That is enough,” Oogami said.

“What are you doing?” she hissed. This was not part of the plan!

“Kirigiri-san, you. . .” Oogami looked away and steeled herself. “This needs to stop. You need to calm down.”

“Would you calm down if Asahina-san had been kidnapped?” she demanded. “Don’t try to say you have the moral high ground.”

“I would be upset if something happened to her, but you have gone too far,” Oogami said. “There is no evidence Hope’s Peak had anything to do with his disappearance. There is not even evidence that he was kidnapped.”

“Is this a joke?” Kirigiri said. “We watched the surveillance video together.”

“Indeed. But what I saw was Naegi-kun falling down the stairs and sliding off-camera. I will admit that it was bizarre, but there was nothing to suggest anyone else had a hand in it.”

“He was there!” Kirigiri shouted. “I saw him moving in the shadows!”

“There really wasn’t anyone there, though,” Asahina said, raising her hand as if they were in school.

“Because you were looking for something human.” With her free hand, she pointed at Kamukura. “That thing is a monster!”

In the aftermath of her declaration, she panted. Her finger remained pointing. Oogami and Asahina were eerily quiet, while Kamukura looked like he wanted to bang his head against a wall.

“Let me go,” Kirigiri said.

Oogami shook her head. “I cannot.”

Fine. She dropped the gun, only to quickly grab it with her other. She brought it up anew, aiming so that his head was right in the sights –

Oogami grabbed her arm and twisted. The flash of pain was so hot and heavy that her legs gave way. Before she could do anything more, a rock-hard arm locked around her neck. She knew this hold. She knew what it meant, but she couldn’t do anything as the hold tightened and cut off the blood flow to her brain. She knew she had mere seconds left but it stretched out to an eternity.

 _I’ll kill you,_ she mouthed to Kamukura. She couldn’t tell if he had read her lips, as his expression never changed. As her vision darkened, the last thing she saw was his clinical stare, and Enoshima as she slunk near and sidled up to her boyfriend.

* * *

She didn’t know why she woke up in a hospital. The unconsciousness that resulted from that hold shouldn’t last too long, and she didn’t think even a traitorous Oogami would lose that much control. This was not her room though, and unless Oogami or Asahina had decided to leave her in their bedroom, she couldn’t think of another place that had a bed for her to lie in.

She didn’t understand what she was doing here. Until she tried to move and the handcuff bit into her wrist.

She stared at it. It was real. Okay, she had been acting violently. Maybe Togami just wanted to be very sure she wouldn’t leave before they talked. It seemed like something he would do if he was frustrated enough.

Or maybe it wasn’t any of those things. Maybe after she had fallen unconscious, Kamukura and Enoshima had seen it fit to take out Oogami and Asahina. They could have dragged into the shadows like they had Naegi and made her a captive in body instead of just mind.

She needed to get out of here. If Hope’s Peak had taken her here, Naegi could be nearby as well.

She tugged and tugged, but the cuffs were metal and didn’t give. There were no loose wires sticking out of the mattress, her pockets had been emptied and she was wearing a hospital gown instead of her regular clothes. . . Those bastards had seen her naked!

With a cry of rage, she slammed her fist against the rail. This wasn’t over. Her opening would come.

She didn’t know how long she waited for that door to open, but it was much too long. She vaguely remembered this woman. She had been there during one of her hospitals visits.

“Um, hello, Detective Kirigiri. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. I have no headache, or light-headedness, or. . .” She listed off the things she knew the nurse would ask her.

“That’s good,” Tsumiki said. She stood there.

Kirigiri rattled her chain. “Unlock this.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I need to wait for the doctors’ approval.”

“Unlock these now,” she snapped. “I have important business to attend to.”

Tsumiki shrank back. “I’m sorry, but you’re not allowed to leave!”

She glared at Tsumiki until she yelped and covered her head. “You can’t keep me. I know my rights.”

“You can’t leave yet,” Tsumiki insisted. “They haven’t evaluated you yet. Please forgive me!”

“. . . This is the psychiatric ward,” she murmured. No. They wouldn’t have stooped that low.

“I’m sorry, but the police department submitted an application to hold you. B-but it’s a very nice place,” Tsumiki said with a forced smile. “I promise to take good care of you.”

“I don’t believe this. Where’s Togami Byakuya? Does he know about this?”

“Um, I can call him for you,” Tsumiki said. “I think he wants to talk to you anyways.”

“Of course, he does,” she said dismissively. “He’ll have the heads of whomever filled out that paperwork.”

Togami took his dear sweet time to arrive, though it could have been the boredom talking. He had his professional face on. Good. People listened to him more when he was like that. Instinctively, she tried to stand, but the handcuffs wouldn’t let her.

“What happened?” he said.

She explained everything she could. Togami listened, not asking questions, nodding occasionally. That was exactly what she needed right now, and her lips formed words even faster. She manually had to stop herself to breathe.

“. . . And that’s why you need to tell them to bring me the key,” she concluded. She pulled again at the cuffs, hissing in rage.

“I don’t understand this. What are they?” Togami wondered aloud.

“Monsters,” she said. “That’s all I can tell you. And they have Makoto. Get me out of here.”

“Get you out,” he muttered. “And then what?”

“We storm the place,” she said. “We grab all the officers on reserve, conduct the biggest raid this country has ever seen and make sure Hope’s Peak can never rise again.”

Togami tugged at his wristwatch in an unusual display of nervousness.

“Come on,” she strained at her restraints again. “I don’t know how much time we have.”

“. . .No.”

“You have a better plan?”

“No . . . There’s no proof. It’s ludicrous.”

“Don’t,” she said. “You may not have witnessed it personally, but you’ve been close enough to Makoto and me to know I’m telling the truth.”

“There was no one else on the video. There’s nothing to prove what you are saying is true.” He avoided looking at her, staring at the wall instead. “It’s the first case you’ve been completely unable to make progress on. Your dad is in town, too, and Naegi and you just broke up. . . It’s stress. You are unable to deal with the stress and you’re having a nervous breakdown.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” She would have thought Hope’s Peak had messed with Togami’s head again, but she had seen the aftermath of that once; she knew what to look for, and this wasn’t it. She could hear the truth, too: the hitching of his breath, the breaks in his voice. This was fear she heard.

“There’s not going to be a raid,” he said. “There’s no proof suggesting they had anything to do with this, I will file a missing person’s report. We will handle this the same way we handle every other missing person’s case.”

“Togami-kun?” Something inside her was trembling. “What are you doing?”

“You need to recover,” he said. “You need to calm down and . . . think about what you’re asking for. I’m sorry I did not intervene earlier.”

“Togami-kun, stop!” The chain rattled and rattled as she fought it. “Stop! You can’t do this!”

“I will request regular updates from the doctors,” he said mechanically. “I hope you recover soon.”

“ _Togami!”_

He shut the door behind him, leaving her to this fate. She screamed and pulled at her chains, until the metal tore into her skin and blood dribbled down her wrist. Her teeth sliced into her lips and tasting that blood finally knocked her out of her rage. Togami had abandoned her. He had abandoned Naegi. There was nobody to help her.

Nobody would save them.

* * *

She didn’t eat their food. She dumped the water they brought her down the sink. Later that night, Tsumiki, flanked by a couple of bodyguards, unlocked her cuffs. Kirigiri kept herself in check; they were expecting her to attack. She laid awake most of the night, listening to the patrols outside and judging their frequency, or scouring her room for tools. Unfortunately, other inmates had a habit of self-harm, and her jailers were exceedingly skilled at removing anything useful. Certainly, she didn’t have anything that could cut through those bars on her window or batter down the door. They’d even gone so far to pad the edge of her room’s small table and weld down the top of the toilet seat. When she slept, it was with the fitful rest of prey who knew the hunter was near.

Morning came. She rose with the sun like a zombie. Her imprisonment felt more real than it had the night before. Yet she could barely focus on her own predicament, instead consumed by concern over where Naegi was and what they were doing to him.

Nothing happened until an hour after lunch. The door opened and Kirigiri looked as usual to see how many people there were. Too many, again. One of them stayed behind with her though.

“Kirigiri?”

“What are you doing here, Jin?” she asked.

“I heard rumours, but I didn’t believe it . . .” Jin said, face pale. “What are _you_ doing here?”

She told him. She told him exactly how Komaeda had played her and Togami had chickened out. Halfway through, her father wavered on his feet and had to sit. She didn’t. She was too angry, pacing around the room like a tiger, beating her fist against the door once or twice.

“You believe me, right? I know what you saw the day grandfather threw you out. You need to get me out of here.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea,” he said. “You’re very agitated, and I don’t think that’s a good combination. . .”

“Don’t you dare! I don’t care if leaving me wasn’t your fault. You don’t get to play my father now!”

She barely even got an opportunity to bask in the petty victory. The nurse approached her room once more, opened the door, and deposited a new visitor. She and Jin were quiet, staring.

“What do you think you’re doing here?’ Fuhito asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> Kirigiri learns the true story of the Kirigiri family.


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, I made last chapter too ambiguous, so a quick clarification: Togami _does_ believe Kirigiri about Hope's Peak. He thinks that if Kirigiri goes after them though, that she and anyone with her will get slaughtered. Thus, he's chosen to abandon Naegi to them.

“Why are you here?” Kirigiri asked her grandfather. She had to take a moment because she had never aimed this tone at him before. This tone had once only been for her father.

“You were submitted for an involuntary psychiatric evaluation.” Fuhito glanced at Jin. “As your family, I was notified immediately.”

Jin bristled.

“Once again, I will ask what you are doing here,” Fuhito said to Jin. “My understanding was that only immediate family should be notified.”

“Don’t play this game with me,” Jin said.

“I understand.” Fuhito smiled pleasantly. “It must be a mistake in her file. I will be sure to correct it as soon as possible.”

“. . . Is that a threat?” Kirigiri asked. She stared at the floor, not sure whether to care about his answer.

“Of course not,” Fuhito said. “But a man who abandoned his daughter shouldn’t be considered family.”

She glared at him. “What about a man who was blackmailed into running away?”

Fuhito stared at her for a long moment. Then he looked at Jin.

“You said not to look for her,” Jin said through a tight jaw. “I didn’t. She. . .”

“Came looking for you. Yes, I know,” Fuhito said with a dismissive turn of his body. “That loophole is the reason you’re alive.”

“You’re admitting to it,” Kirigiri said. “Are you confessing that his side of the story is true?”

Fuhito sighed and leaned back against a wall. “You know how people are, Kyoko. His side of the story will be full of bias. However, I imagine the general picture was accurate.”

“You actually did it.” Something hot like tears poked at her eyes. Fuhito didn’t react, didn’t even look at her. Jin did, however, and whatever he saw made him go cold.

“You ruined us,” Jin growled. “You separated a child from her father right after she had lost her mother. You were going to murder me if you couldn’t take her for yourself. How can you stand there and call yourself her family?”

“I did what needed to be done,” Fuhito said. “The world isn’t made of easy choices.”

“Was selling me to the Deep Ones an easy choice?” Kirigiri asked.

His lips drew away from his teeth in his rage, like a growling animal. “I saved you! I saved you from the same horrible choice your father made.”

“And what choice was that?” Jin shouted. “Choosing whether she wanted to have a father?”

Fuhito looked Jin squarely in the face. “I drove you away. I gave you the chance to live.”

“You sold your own granddaughter into slavery!” Kirigiri cried. “You let them control her. . . They _mutilated_ her to threaten her father!”

“Kyoko, what are you talking about?” Jin asked, pale with horror.

“I’ve saved you,” Fuhito repeated. “You will not be left behind. You will share in the fortunes of the Kirigiri line.”

She squeezed the bedpost next to her, needing the pressure. “Great-grandfather was obsessed with our line, too. You can’t be the first. How far back does this go?”

“. . . Kyoko, how many great detectives do you know?” Fuhito asked.

She frowned. Likewise, Jin watched his father with confusion. Kirigiri said, “Plenty. Fujisaki-kun was very good at what he did. Togami-kun, before he became my boss, had a knack for deductions. Then there’s Saihara-kun and his uncle and . . .”

“Not great detectives, _Great Detectives_ ,” Fuhito interrupted. “A detective who works alone or with a sidekick, who has no need for backup and always finds the culprit.”

Kirigiri would have chosen herself as a first answer, followed by her grandfather. She knew no one else. Naegi needed her, and Saihara was good but she knew he received substantial help from others like his department’s profiler, Ouma Koichi.

Fuhito said, “There are none. Not anymore, barring the Kirigiris. However, it isn’t that the world’s pool of talent has gotten smaller; the world’s simply gotten too complex. We have computers now, chemical analysis, international crime and dozens and dozens of cases every year. It’s too much. The cases have become more and more complicated, and the standard of proof rises every decade. It is no longer possible to be a Great Detective and yet, the Kirigiris have been generation after generation.”

She said, “You’re saying . . . this isn’t natural.”

Fuhito nodded. “The first true Kirigiri struck a deal for prosperity, protection and of course, salvation. The descendants who accepted the contract shared in those promises. In return, we became detectives to erase inconvenient evidence and silence those who knew too much. Those great Kirigiri instincts, the ones that separate us from the rest? They don’t exist. No doubt some of your miraculous deductions were drawn from your own logic and experience, but the truly impossible ones were simply his voice whispering into our ears.”

“My . . .” She collapsed onto the bed. Her talent, her _life_ , a lie? “My talent comes from _them_?”

“The day you came to me and said you wanted to be the greatest detective ever . . . That was your acceptance of the contract. But _you_.” Fuhito glared at his son. “You never wanted to be a detective. I could never make you say those words and mean it. You rejected that destiny. And so, Komaeda Nagito had no use for you.”

She felt faint. “Komaeda Nagito?”

“Yes. He is the one the first Kirigiri made the contract with.”

This must be a dream. She had known she was beholden to something, but to Komaeda? To the same monster that had murdered Naegi’s father and driven them apart? Impossible. She couldn’t be. It wasn’t fair!

She clutched at her neck where the rosary used to be. If Fuhito was telling the truth and Yonaga had been telling the truth, then that meant . . . It hadn’t been the Elders possessing her . . . It had been Komaeda. It had been _Komaeda_ -!

. . . What had happened? She sat up slowly, the world spinning. From what Jin and Fuhito were saying, she had passed out from shock.

“Don’t touch me!” She slapped Fuhito’s hand away. A moment afterwards, she realized Jin was holding her other arm. She chose to ignore it. “Don’t speak to me. Just leave!”

“I came to tell you that your work is done, and you can rest easy,” Fuhito said. He looked around the small room. “I imagine you’ll get plenty of time for rest here.”

“My work is done? What did I even do?” she shouted at him. “I never tried to help them. I don’t know what I’ve done for them. I don’t understand anything! I don’t even know why this happened or why Nanami Chiaki died.”

“That girl? What does she have to do with any of this?” Fuhito asked, eyebrows raised.

“She was the victim. She’s the reason all of this started.”

Fuhito said, “You haven’t figured out the reason she died yet?”

“. . .No. But you did.” Somehow, through that maelstrom of pain and betrayal, she said that with conviction.

“Of course. She died because they needed to commit a murder.”

She blinked. “What?”

“How else would you get the homicide detectives to walk into your home?” Fuhito said. “They needed a murder, and Nanami Chiaki arrived at the right time. I’m afraid there is no grander scheme.”

“The murder was meaningless?” Jin said slowly.

“Not meaningless,” Fuhito said. “It set the stage. The choice of victim, however, was arbitrary.”

“That can’t be,” she said. “They had a map of her town. They . . .”

But that didn’t have to be about Nanami, did it? For Hinata Hajime had also lived in that town.

She felt like she was going to faint again. This was so much worse than her original theory: that Nanami Chiaki, after meeting with or being intercepted by Tanaka, had gone to face Hope’s Peak alone. Kirigiri had assumed it had something to do with Kamukura Izuru, aka. Hinata Hajime, in a tragedy born of friendship or love. But Fuhito said differently, claimed that even with Nanami’s intimate knowledge of one of their members and her reasons to hate the church, Hope’s Peak still hadn’t viewed her as a threat. Nanami’s death. . . it had simply been bad luck.

But at least the motive was clear now. If Fuhito was correct, then the aim had been to attract the attention of the police, of Naegi and her. Except she was here, locked in this hospital ward with her villainous grandfather trying to convince her to back down. There was only one conclusion to draw: she didn’t matter. Hope’s Peak had no use for her. The motive behind this plot wasn’t to lure _them_ in. The motive, simply put, had been to produce bait to catch _Naegi_.

“How do I know you’re correct?” she asked.

“Because they told me,” Fuhito said. “They brought me to the scene to make sure they had set it up correctly – they have a different definition of murder – and they hadn’t left any obvious clues behind.”

She remembered faintly that Ikusaba had spoken of a car dropping people off at the church the morning of the murder. Had that been her grandfather?

“You didn’t even try to warn me,” Kirigiri said. “When I decided to become a detective, I had no idea what it actually meant.”

“It was paramount that you knew nothing of the reality,” Fuhito said. “I cannot say why, other than Komaeda-kun insisted.”

“Then tell me this: what do they want with Makoto?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you do not have that information, then I have no further use for you.” She brushed her hair behind her ear as some old fire returned to her. “There will be no further contact between us. You will not see me. You will not speak to me. You can return to the life you clearly desire: as their fervent slave.”

How the tides had changed. Fuhito did not break down begging as his son had those years ago, but something like pain showed for a bit. But like her, Fuhito was in control of himself and it didn’t last long. He said, “So be it. It will all end in a matter of days, regardless. I’m sure you’ll understand then, Kyoko.”

With that, another chapter of her life closed. ( ~~Another person she loved left her behind.)~~ Now, it was time to turn her attention to the path before her, to the only thing she had left.

“Please,” she said to her father, “you need to get me out of here. You heard him: whatever Hope’s Peak is planning, they’re close to achieving it and they need Makoto. Help me. Please.”

Jin looked away. “What would you do? I don’t think you can stop them.”

“I need to try. We both know that whatever they’re planning is evil,” she said. “You’ll regret not trying.”

“I can’t promise anything,” Jin said, “but I’ll see what I can do. Just . . . make sure you know what you’re doing.”

She dismissed him. Meant to, at least. But just as one of his feet stepped out of the room, she stopped him.

“. . . Thank you,” she said.

* * *

In all honestly, she thought Jin had lied to her. When he left and rescue didn’t come within the next day, she wrote him off. It was instinct from years of dismissing her father. Even though she knew the truth behind his abandonment of her, she still had no ability to have faith in him. She spent her time alternatively scheming or fantasizing about taking down Hope’s Peak.

When rescue did come, she was not to blame for not recognizing it. Jin hadn’t said anything about sending a stranger, after all. Yet one moment she was pacing her cell, and the next someone was knocking on the room’s window and waving hello. It wasn’t like an ordinary window either. It was one high up, higher than she could reach without something to stand on, for most of her room was underground.

The strange man had a blonde goatee and thin mustache that marked an otherwise smooth face. He waved at her again and just as cheerfully, smashed the glass with a hammer. She tensed, expecting alarms, but nothing happened.

“Hello, Kyoko-chan!” the man said. Who was he to address her so familiarly? “I hope you don’t mind, but your daddy’s a little busy right now.”

“With what?” she asked out of a lack of anything else to say. Even if she had been close with her father, she would never ever, ever, ever, ever have called him _daddy_.

“With a distraction.” Humming, he chipped away at the remaining toothlike shards before pulling out a screwdriver. “Now hang tight.”

The man began working at the bolts holding the window bars in place. Kirigiri waited below impatiently, like a dog waiting for its owner to drop a treat.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Ah, the less you know, the less likely we are to get in trouble. They always expect people to break out instead of in, but let’s try not to take chances,” the man said. With a grin that seemed to glint in the sunlight, he said, “I’m a good friend of your dad. I think that’s what you really wanted to know.”

The last screw dropped to the floor. The man grabbed the bars just before they fell. He handed them down, so she could lower them without making a sound. His shoulders fit through the window, and the man extended his left hand to her. Between him pulling and climbing the wall with her legs, she slipped through the window and popped out onto the surface.

“Now, this is an adventure,” the man said. He picked up a fedora that had been laying next to him and plopped it onto his head. “Jin said not to wait for him. No telling how long that distraction will last.”

“What is he doing?” Kirigiri asked.

“Making a scene, as you young folks put it. I have a car out in front. I can take you anywhere. Just say the word.”

“Take me home,” Kirigiri said, already walking in the direction of his car.

“Are you sure?” the man asked. “That will be the first place they look for you.”

“There are things that I need there. You can take me there.”

Surprisingly, the man didn’t try to change her mind, saying that she was the detective and knew best. He turned on a radio tuned to the frequency of the police scanner. For a while, they listened to the buzz of petty crimes around the city, something she found relaxing. Then, the hospital’s name came up. After listening to the codes called in, she knew her escape had been discovered. Her father’s friend stared at her through the mirror, so he must have known, too. However, he did not ask whether she wanted to change her destination.

“Anything else you need?” the man asked once he had dropped her off at home.

“No, this will be sufficient.”

“Kyoko-chan. . .” His index finger tapped on the car’s front door. “I know you have no reason to listen to an old man like myself, but take care of yourself. I’ve heard things are getting dangerous around here.”

She nodded. “Tell him I will. And thank you.”

The man nodded. He and his car sped off.

She grabbed a garbage can, somehow stood on it without breaking it, and then clambered onto the roof. She couldn’t see Tanaka’s nest, but she remembered where it was. At some point, she crossed the invisible barrier and his gear popped into view. She dropped to her knees in the middle of it, grabbing a duffle bag he had left behind. She filled the bag instead with anything potentially useful she could find, like plants and powders and a talisman with the symbol of the ouroboros.

She dropped from the roof. Hopefully, the neighbours wouldn’t see her and call the police. Hopefully, Hope’s Peak wouldn’t get a warning. . .

“Kirigiri-chan!”

Fuck.

Oh, wait. It was Hagakure. Was he. . . was he picketing her house?! With a sign claiming the police were discriminating against him? As she absorbed that, her grip slackened and she nearly dropped the duffle bag.

“What are you doing?” she asked Hagakure.

Hagakure looked her way, and then raised his sign higher and chanted louder.

She grabbed his wrist. “Stop. What is it?”

“Kirigiri-chan!” Hagakure puffed himself up and she knew this was going to be good. “I demand to speak with Naegi-kun!”

“Why?” she asked cautiously. Part of her wanted to run away.

“Why? Because he _promised_.” Hagakure lobbed an accusing finger at her. “The place next to my favourite burger joint just got a radiator so if it explodes, my burger joint explodes, too. I went to the police to complain cause Naegi-kun promised they would help me. But get this! They _laughed_ at me, and then Naegi-kun refused to talk to me when I asked for him so I’m staying here until he does!”

She rubbed her brow. “Hagakure-kun, he didn’t refuse to see you, he _can’t_ see you. He isn’t around.”

“Oh.” Hagakure laughed and smiled sheepishly. “Whoops. Uh, you’re not mad, right?”

At that moment, they heard sirens.

“Ack! You called the cops on me!” He began bouncing from foot to foot rapidly like a cartoon character.

“No,” she said sharply. “They’re here for me, not you.”

As the first shivers of the flight-and-fight instinct ran up her spine, she truly saw Hagakure for the first time. He was an idiot, yes, and a scam artist. But the fact of the matter was that despite everything he had done and all the enemies he had made, no one had ever gotten him into a cell.

“You need to take me with you.” She grabbed his wrist because he was about to bolt. “I need to hide from the police and you’re my best bet.”

“No way! There is a 30% chance this is a setup!” Despite the fact he was saying it was more likely she wasn’t setting him up, he treated his statement like the opposite. “I mean why would they be after you, anyways?”

She sized him up.

“Because my boyfriend was abducted by a cult run by creatures that are pretending to be humans but could be aliens as part of a decades-long conspiracy where they’ve been manipulating me my entire life and now the police are trying to imprison me so I don’t get in the way of their evil ritual.” She said that all in one breath in a monotone.

“I knew the aliens were evil! Alright, Kirigiri-chan, don’t worry. I got this . . . Ohshitthey’realreadyhere!”

Hagakure took off like a bullet. She, having glanced back at the approaching car, almost missed which way he went. She ran after him. Behind her, she thought something was calling her name into a bullhorn.

She could hear sirens on the streets all around them, but Hagakure had his escape routes and knew them well. She followed him through gardens and over fences, sometimes darting across roads right behind the police. Finally, they emerged into a wooded area that she had known about but never really explored. On the street nearby, a police car went screaming past, but it didn’t stop.

“Don’t worry, they never get me past here!” Hagakure said. “We’re almost home-free.”

Short on breath, she only nodded. They waited until the next car flew past, and then she followed her unlikely ally into the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll confirm it right here: Fuhito is absolutely correct about why Nanami died. Hope's Peak's plan never had anything to do with her.
> 
> Next Chapter:  
> Random Commentor: So what is Hagakure's connection to this?  
> Arcawolf: Well I'm glad you asked!


	55. Chapter 55

Hagakure didn’t have much of a home. His tent was a cheap one found in a hardware store. Around it were boxes with sloppily-placed tops and garbage bags hanging by ropes from branches. The grass around his base had been tromped down and reduced to dirt. Non-native plants stuck out of the soil, and the thorns of one pricked her leg as she passed by.

“Alright, we’re good now,” Hagakure said. “So, tell me about these aliens? Why do they want all our cows?”

“. . . That’s a different species,” she said.

“Then we’re talking about the ones who built the pyramid, right?” Hagakure gasped. “I knew it!”

“Yeah. Sure,” she said.

“That doesn’t sound sure,” Hagakure said, surprising her by being smart enough to figure that out. “Okay, we’ll start from the beginning. What do they look like? Do they have big foreheads and three fingers? Do they have lizard eyes? Is it true? Is the Queen of Britain an alien?!”

“Fangs,” she said. “They have large, sharp fangs like a wolf and eat fish of a species I’ve never seen before. They seem to have telekinetic powers.” (She remembered the twisting shadows that had converged on Naegi. “That or their physical form isn’t perceivable by the naked eye alone. They don’t age in their human disguises.”

She tried to remember what that statue in Yonaga’s room looked like, but the moment the barest hint of a form came to memory, her toes curled in fear. Blood rushed in her ears as her vision dimmed, and it only went away when she forced herself to think about different things.

“Doesn’t sound like anything I’ve heard about,” Hagakure said. “You sure they don’t have lizard eyes?”

Had she really expected to get something useful out of him? She answered, “I can’t say for certain. I have never seen them in their true forms. It’s possible that they have reptilian eyes, but I doubt they’re the same as what you’re thinking. The only way to reliably identify one in their thrall is by a tattoo that looks like a lighting bolt on their thigh.”

“Tattoos!” Hagakure hissed. “I told you they were evil! Oh, so what happened to Naegi-kun?””

“They bewitched him,” she said. “While I was indisposed, they approached him and offered him that tattoo. They must have tricked him, because he accepted. Now they’ve taken him, and nobody will believe me, and they’ve already killed the only person who seemed to understand how to fight them.”

 _Crack_.

She blinked. Hagakure offered her an open beer. She wasn’t one for drinking, but . . . Fuck that.

As the bitter liquid sloshed down her throat, Hagakure remarked, “That’s the good stuff. I can’t buy it too often since the government won’t let anyone hire me. I was saving it for a special occasion since it’s so rare for me . . .”

She rolled her eyes and thrust a ten-dollar bill at him. Hagakure snatched it and stuffed it into his pocket.

He opened a can of beer for himself. “I know how you feel. People don’t believe me even though I’m right 30% of the time. I gotta say though, what you’re talking about reminds me a lot of Hinata.”

The beer can crumpled in her hand. “What?”

“Yeah, Hinata Hajime! Remember how I was telling you and Naegi-kins about that friend of a friend who got a tattoo? That was him! Apparently, he was hanging out with some super secret conspiracy group and then one day, he comes back with a tattoo and starts acting weird. Soon afterwards, he vanished, and my friend told me that the people who gave him the tattoo were responsible. You get what I’m saying right: obviously the government made him disappear so he couldn’t talk!”

“Define acting weird,” she said, forcing herself not to go for the big question right away. She didn’t want him to catch onto her.

He shrugged. “I dunno. I didn’t know the guy very well. But my friend said he got kind of snooty and more aggressive. Oh, and he was obsessed with water.”

_Obsessed with water. . .?_

“Your friend’s name, what was it?” she asked.

And he answered, “Nanami Chiaki.”

It hit her like a bat to the head. Her knees buckled, and she had to sit down. Hagakure. Out of all the goddamn people it was _Hagakure_ who had known, and she had never asked. (Granted, if she had, there was a good chance she wouldn’t have believed him.)

“She’s off looking for him now,” Hagakure said, oblivious to his friend’s fate. “I told her I knew Hinata wasn’t dead, so she decided to go after him.”

“You know he’s alive? How? Did you meet Kamukura Izuru?”

Hagakure frowned. “Who?”

“Never mind. How do you know Hinata was alive?”

“Because she paid me to perform a séance!” Hagakure smiled to himself, proud of how he had taken advantage of his friend’s grief. “I got all the stuff set up, lit the candles and guess what? Nothing happened! If Hinata didn’t answer when I summoned him, then the only explanation is that he’s alive!”

Ridiculous. It was ridiculous. It was nonsense. And yet . . .

“What does it take to perform a séance?” she asked quietly.

“Is there someone you want to talk to?” Hagakure crackled his knuckles and rubbed his palms together. “Depends on how long they’ve been dead and who they are. If you tell me the details, I can give you a cost.”

“You’re charging me?”

“I take cash and cheque.”

* * *

The next hour and a half were one of the weirdest of her life. White chalk had stained her gloves from helping him trace out a series of crescents that spiralled and overlapped each other in a circle. The table cloth the chalk laid upon was deep purple, though in the dim lighting, it appeared black. Hagakure had taken a thick tarp and thrown it over the already-thick fabric of the tent to block out as much light as she could. Only the candles, three in total, let them see now and she didn’t like it because if just one fell off the table, the whole place could go up in flames. Hagakure hung up a couple of blue-feathered dream catchers by the door to stop bad spirits. (She was pretty sure that was not they were supposed to do, but she didn’t bother to correct him.) He lit incense, five this time, and placed in in the center of the chalk symbol. It wasn’t long before a haze spread over the tent’s ceiling.

“You want another drink?” Hagakure asked. “Everyone tells me seances are always more fun with a bit of booze. Super cheap, I promise!”

She declined. She wanted to make sure she was completely aware for this.

“Suit yourself.” With that, Hagakure took a large swig of his own drink.

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” she asked in alarm.

He tried to answer too quickly and choked. Once he recovered, he said, “Sure, it’s fine. Just makes it easier for the ghosts to speak. Let’s get started, then.”

They sat across from each other, reached out and joined hands. Though she let go of Hagakure’s hand so that she could pick up the script and review it again.

Hagakure laughed. “Relax. Just speak from the soul and everything will be fine.”

She reviewed it again. “Alright. I’m ready.”

They joined hands once more. Hagakure closed her eyes and following his lead, she did as well. A few seconds afterward, he squeezed her hand to let her know to begin.

“Spirits of the past, move among us,” they chanted. “Be guided by the light of this world and visit upon us.”

They said it thrice more, than addressed the ghost by name. She thought she heard something, but Hagakure started the chant once more and she knew it was not time.

Again and again, they spoke. Each time, the flames flickered but nothing else happened. Just when she was about to give up, Hagakure’s hand tightened so much around hers that it hurt.

She opened her eyes. “Are you . . .?”

Her query about his wellbeing stopped short. Hagakure crouched over the table, shoulders trembling. She thought he was choking and nearly went to help, but then his chin snapped up and his eyes were pure white. His head tilted to one side, mouth falling open like a puppet with a broken jaw.

“Where am I?” the spirit gasped. “Am I finally free?”

“Hello. Can you hear me?” she asked.

The spirit looked up at her. “Have you saved me?”

She ignored that. “My name is Kirigiri Kyoko. I am a detective with the local police department.”

The spirit was silent, waiting for more.

She held herself steady. “Is your name Naegi Ohori?”

“Don’t!” the spirit hissed. “Do not call me by that name. It enrages Him.”

“What should I call you?”

“Ohori is fine,” the spirit said. “It is the other word that angers Him. He says I am no longer worthy of being associated with . . . _it_.”

She had a feeling that ‘it’ wasn’t referring to the family name. “I have some questions for you. Will you answer?”

Hagakure’s head rolled on his neck. It was eerie, reminding her of a corpse drifting in a current. “I have lived in agony for years. Never have the cosmos granted me reprieve, until now. Ask. I will answer.”

“Who killed you?” she asked.

“It was a monster,” Ohori said. “I do not know what it is. It was bigger than what is possible. I only saw a glimpse before it all went dark.”

“Was it Komaeda Nagito?” she asked. “Was that its name?”

“I do not know its name,” the spirit groaned. “It took me into the ether and gave me to _Him_.”

“Who is him?”

She could see the spirit trembling _inside_ Hagakure’s body. “Monster. _Monster_.”

“Stop. I understand,” she said, alarmed by his muttering. “Before that creature attacked you, you did something. Can you remember?”

Ohori twitched violently. That meant yes, right? Although he had been twitching ever since Kirigiri had summoned him.

“Do you remember?” she repeated. “You had been on a walk with your son, Naegi Makoto, and –”

“ _Not mine!”_ Ohori screeched. “Not mine! Not mine!”

She jumped back. Unnerved, she shuffled her chair back to the table. “Not your what.”

Though Hagakure’s pupils had disappeared, she still saw the eyes roll in their socket. “Not my son. Not mine. Always suspected it. Always knew something was wrong.”

“Did you wife cheat on you?” Realizing that question would provoke hostility, she quickly said, “Was he adopted?”

“She birthed him,” Ohori whispered. “But I do not know where it came from.”

“It?”

“It,” Ohori hissed again. “Makoto. Not my son. I saw it. It was a monster, too.”

“You’re exaggerating,” she said. “You must be.”

“It was a _monster_.” Ohori nearly flung himself across the table to grab her arm. “Not human! Not one of us! One of them. Listen to me: you need to kill it.”

She yanked her arm away.

“You must!” the spirit moaned. “You must! Before _He_ finds Makoto.”

“Who? Are you talking about Komaeda Nagito?” she demanded, not letting loose that it was already too late.

Hagakure’s jaw flapped open and closed like an animated skeleton. “The father. The _real_ father. They cannot meet, or the world has already ended.”

She ignored the emotional baggage weighing her down. She had to. She had to treat this objectively, like she was going over the facts of a new case. She couldn’t allow herself to have an opinion, to have emotions. Because if she did. . . if she did . . .

“I need you to clarify,” she said. “How would Makoto meeting his father end the world?”

“Because it means the barrier has fallen. They will no longer be sealed away. Makoto is the key to breaking the seal. I know nothing more; I only know what I’ve overheard while I’ve been i-in . . .”

The spirit gave a rattling breath. It pulled at Hagakure’s hair, assaulted by visions she could not see. Then it lunged across the table and grabbed her collar.

“ _Kill me!_ ” the spirit screeched. “Please! Do not let me go back. They won’t let me fade away. You cannot understand the agony. Oblivion would be heaven. Do not send me back!”

“I can’t.” Her chair skittered away from the table. “Even if I knew how, you’re in somebody else’s body. I can’t . . .”

“Then kill him! Kill her!” A candle fell off the table. Thankfully, the fall blew out the wick before it landed. “You can’t send me back! If you have any mercy, kill me!”

Hagakure’s hands weren’t this skeletal; she was sure of it. So why then could she see skin sagging around his knuckles, spread over them like a tent. Why were his fingers so thin she could feel the point of the fingerbones as they curled into the narrow inch of flesh between her collarbone and throat? The white in his eyes had churned into a milk-like whirlpool. Within them, she thought she could see flames. Hell.

And he released her. Hagakure’s body reeled back across the table, falling into its assigned chair. The eyes closed, and then opened anew with the same brown tints of the hermit who had brought her here. He shook his head like a surfer who had just come in from the waves.

“Wow, that was an emotional one, huh?” he said.

“You . . . heard?”

“Hm? Nah, that stuff’s between you and him. But you can tell when you host them, you know? The rowdy ones already give you a headache afterwards, and you usually shoot back earlier, too. They can’t hold onto the body very well when they get all full of feelings.” Hagakure gave her something that looked like it was supposed to be a sly grin. “Of course, if your conversation got cut short, you can always go for another round. I’m having buy one, get one half off deal today. . .”

“No!” she spat. “No. That was . . . It was useless. Everything he told me was useless and it _doesn’t change anything!_ ”

She had to keep telling herself that; had to tell herself that the only difference was that she knew why she had to rescue Naegi. She knew Naegi better than him. Naegi wanted the world to end no more than she . . . if Ohori had even been telling the truth. For all she knew, he was merely upset he hadn’t succeeding in killing his son and was trying to manipulate her into doing it for him.

She tried to stand up but when she did, she wobbled and had to sit right back down. The world felt like it was slowly turning upside down.

“What is this?” she stuttered.

“That’s normal. Just take a nap,” Hagakure said as he stripped the table. “The first time speaking to ghosts is a little weird on the brain. But now that you’ve seen them, it’s only a matter of time before you start seeing all the aliens, too!”

“I. . . I can’t do this right now. I need to leave!”

“It’s fine,” Hagakure said. “Just relax.”

She didn’t mean to, she fought it, but the unnaturalness of the séance had overtaken her. Her chin collapsed onto the table. She tried thrice to rise, but was unable. The last thing she saw before her eyes shut was the waving flame on the candle before her.

* * *

It had been a long time since she had gone to the beach. Pools were fine, but she wasn’t particularly fond of violent waves or fierce undertows that could rip you away in a moment’s breath. (Had she known deep inside even then? Had she known about the deal she had unwittingly made?) This beach, though, was nice. It was night, the air crisp, but the sand was warm between her toes. The faint silhouette of a new moon hung in the sky above, drowned out by the sparkle of the stars in the swaying ocean. More importantly, she was alone. Except for one person.

She approached him from behind. Naegi didn’t appear to have noticed her yet. He stood at the edge of the water, staring out at the horizon. He shouldn’t be here, although she shouldn’t be either. Yet nothing about this felt wrong.

“You doing okay?” Naegi asked without looking at her.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

Suddenly, she needed to see his face. She needed to make sure this was him. Surprisingly, he didn’t resist at all. He let her grab him and spin him around, not seeming the least bit perturbed by her actions. With her eyes, she swept up and down. Everything about him indicated this, indeed, was Naegi.

“Looking for the tattoo?” he asked wryly. She had forgotten, honestly, but he slipped his pants down just enough for her to see that black ink on his thigh.

The disgust coiled in her gut. She said, “The first thing we’re going to do is get that removed.”

Naegi never lost his smile. He merely shook his head, an old sadness reflecting off his eyes. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know. It will be difficult because that requires repeat visits and I doubt we’ll be able to stay in one place after this,” she said with a sigh.

Naegi said, “You know that isn’t what I mean.”

They watched the waves together. The tide was coming in and the waves were growing closer, stronger. Water tickled her ankle as it rushed by.

“You’re coming for me, aren’t you?” Naegi asked suddenly.

“I’m insulted that you had to ask.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “Of course, you’re going to. There’s nothing anyone can say to make you choose otherwise.”

“What are you really saying?” she said. “Spit it out.”

Once again, he shook his head. “It wouldn’t make a difference to you. Besides, I think . . .”

The water was at her knees, now.

“I . . .”

A tear dropped from his face and landed on her ungloved hand.

“. . . I think it’s too late for either of us.”

And with that, Naegi stepped forward –

She woke up. She was in Hagakure’s tent, alone. Slowly, she drew her knees up to her chest. She struggled not to cry.


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that only questions relating to Kirigiri will be explicitly answered. So if you have other questions, ask soon!
> 
> Also, I'm like half-asleep right now so if the prose seems a bit odd that might be why.

Despite how much she wanted to, when Kirigiri arrived at the church, she didn’t kick down the door. She didn’t enter right away. Instead, she made a detour for the forest behind it, praying that Hope’s Peak was oblivious to her presence. Tanaka had hidden himself from them, so hopefully this talisman she wore would do the same.

She felt like she had memorized the sights on the way to Tanaka’s hut by now. These weren’t just trees, but signposts pointing the way. The ground was firm under her, not swampy at all. She tried not to think about the paradox of her memories, of times in the forest both with and without swamps. It was too confusing to understand. Nor did she need to. All she needed was to locate Tanaka’s base. If it was still standing.

The sigil on their house had lost its power with his death, but not everything of his had faded. The white line of powder in the forest still lived. She knelt and scooped some into a little baggie she had brought with her. She had no idea what this stuff was, but Tanaka had said it kept Hope’s Peak out of his yard.

His door was unlocked. A rat made a run for it when she stepped inside. The interior was neat. Undisturbed. Just as she had hoped because that meant Hope’s Peak hadn’t – or couldn’t – make a wreck of the place. That said, it wasn’t all great. She didn’t know what she was looking for, as she knew nothing about magic. . .

Was that a crossbow?

She walked up to it slowly. Propped up in a corner was a wooden crossbow that looked like Tanaka had whittled himself. A length of twine tied together five bolts next to it.

These was coming with her. She scoured the hut for anything else. What she found was just as cryptic as what had been on her roof; she doubted she would be able to put it to much use.

So be it then. There would be no more preparation. Now she would walk into the mouth of the beast.

Once again, Hope’s Peak gave no sign that they were alert to her presence. Though even if they had, what had she expected? She doubted they felt the need for armed guards or any true security. She pressed herself against the back door, listening. When she didn’t hear anything, she turned the knob and slowly pushed it open.

A wide, empty expanse greeted her. Despite her efforts, her heels clicked against the floor, but no one came running. She moved quickly, not waiting to linger in this open space for any longer than necessary.

Her first stop was the third floor, for she knew who had taken Naegi and where he slept. If she could get this over with by only involving Komaeda, without sucking in any other members of the church, that would be a miracle.

She opened the door to Komaeda’s room.

It was empty, and not only of Komaeda. The room was bare, save for the desk. However, even its drawers were empty. That frightened her more than finding Komaeda with a gun would have. Komaeda hadn’t _left,_ had he? Now that he had gotten what he wanted, could he have abandoned this place? No. No, she wouldn’t accept that. He had to be messing with her head again.

She could think of another place to look, especially since Komaeda had a captive. She ran back downstairs, charged into the confessional without fear and wriggled her fingers into that crack under the bench’s lid. Only it didn’t budge. She braced her feet against the ground and pulled, but it remained closed as if it were truly one piece. To her, that wasn’t a sign of mistaken memories, but a confirmation that _he_ was down there.

She rolled her weight back onto her heels, breathing hard. Fine. If Komaeda had sealed this place off to her, then she would find another way. She’d find someone who would let her in.

With that, she returned to the third floor and stalked down the hall. Ikusaba’s room was. Yonaga was likewise absent. Shame. Those two – the two weak humans – would have been her preferred targets. She had to resort to drastic measures then and place her faith in the late Tanaka.

There was a single door open, just a crack. With the crossbow’s tip, she nudged it open. The room itself was dark, but she could still make out a lump in the bed. Step by step, she tiptoed over. She positioned herself by the head, bringing the crossbow to bear so that the loaded bolt pointed directly between the slumbering Kamukura’s eyes.

“Wake up!” she barked.

His eyes snapped open. He didn’t notice the crossbow right away, and she had to follow him with it as he rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. Afterwards, he realized what was happening. He stared cross-eyed at the bolt’s point.

“Kirigiri-san? Is it time already.” He tried to rise.

“Don’t move.” In a flash, she repositioned herself, so she was directly behind the crossbow, adding her full weight to her threat. “Where’s Komaeda?”

Kamukura’s brow pinched. “Why am I always stuck dealing with his messes?”

“If that’s your concern, let me make this easier for you. Where’s Makoto?”

He sighed, not looking the least bit afraid. “Alright, fine. Listen to me closely. Everything’s fine. You’re fine, Makoto’s fine. It’s just time for him to hatch, so _relax_. There’s nothing to worry about. Calm down and relax.”

There was a deliberateness to the way he spoke, like he was mouthing the words to a lipreader. She didn’t understand why and didn’t have much time to ponder it because she noticed something amiss. From Kamukura’s ahoge came a faint light, as if the creature had hidden a nightlight inside.

“What is that. . .?” she muttered aloud.

“What is. . .? Wait, you’re not . . .” Kamukura squinted at her. “Why isn’t it working. . .? Where did you get that?”

She took a second. He was staring at the talisman around her neck, the one that had once belonged to Tanaka. She rubbed her thumb over it. Kamukura wasn’t shying away so it wasn’t hurting or repelling him, but his behaviour stated that it was doing something. She eyed the light in the ahoge again; whatever this talisman did, it likely had something to do with that.

“Nagito’s going to be angry when he hears about this,” Kamukura said. He had likely deduced where she had scavenged it from. “If you’re not going to let me do this the easy way, then I’ll have to. . . _Argh!_ ”

Kamukura, in his casual recklessness, had tried to push the crossbow away. However, his skin had grazed the bolt as it did, and that immediately made him recoil and cry out in pain. He was lucky she had such good discipline, or the suddenness would have made her shoot him out of pure reflex. He cradled his arm to his chest. When he finally released it, she saw a strip of skin that was red and irritated.

“Kirigiri-san?” His voice was high and tight. The light in his ahoge was gone.

“Get up.”

“He’s not going to like this. Trust me, Nagito will kill you,” Kamukura said as he stood up just as she demanded. “Are you really going to mess this up for yourself now? Why would you . . .?”

“Take me to Makoto.” She jabbed him in the back and he yelped again. Oh. She hadn’t thought it would hurt through his clothing. If she listened, she could hear a faint hissing noise coming from his back.

“That’s . . .”

“I’ll make this easy for you. I already know where Komaeda’s keeping him, so shut up and get me into that _secret_ cavern.”

His Adam’s apply bobbed. He did as she ordered, holding his hands up as they made their way to the stairs.

A door shut somewhere behind them in the hallway. A voice said, “The fuck is this?”

Enoshima. Kirigiri turned sideways so she could watch both her enemies. Enoshima had just left her room and in her hand, she had the ritualistic knife she had once seen in Shinguji’s room – the one she suspected had been used to kill Nanami Chiaki. Enoshima couldn’t have grabbed the knife in response to Kirigiri’s presence though, for Enoshima’s reaction made it obvious that her appearance was a surprise. The knife was for something, for _someone_ else. And she was aware of only one outsider that Hope’s Peak had gotten their grubby paws on.

“Put the knife down,” she said. She aimed the crossbow at Enoshima, then back at Kamukura when it looked like he was going to make a move.

“I honestly don’t have time for this,” Enoshima said. The knife tapped against her thigh; with a little more pressure, it would have pierced the skin. “I have an ugly date to meet, and no time to mingle with the servants.”

“This is your last warning. Put the knife down.”

Enoshima shrugged and tossed it aside. That wasn’t good. That meant she was confident in some other weapon she had. However, as Kirigiri swept her over, she couldn’t find anything dangerous.

“So, how are we going to do this?” Enoshima said cheerfully. “Rock paper scissors? A dance-off? Cause somebody’s not walking out of here if you’re gong to act like that.”

Yes, she agreed. Which is why she warned Enoshima when the woman moved closer. Enoshima smirked and raised her hands just like Kamukura, those long talons of hers glinting –

That . . . that wasn’t even an exaggeration. Those weren’t long, manicured nails. They were claws. Thick, slightly curved claws strong enough to carve grooves into a tree trunk without breaking. That was why she hadn’t fretted about throwing the knife away; she already owned ten blades.

“You’re looking a little worried, Kyoko-chan,” Enoshima said. “Cold feet?”

Kamukura stirred behind her. She turned more toward him but as she did, Enoshima took another step forward. She slipped a hand into her pocket. This was bad. Very, very bad.

“Still feeling tough?” Enoshima purred. The tips of her fangs stuck out as she abandoned subtleness. “If you get on your knees and beg, maybe we’ll be merciful.”

“I think you have your own problem to deal with,” Kirigiri spat, and she pulled the baggie of white powder out of her pocket and threw it.

Before Kamukura’s shout, before Enoshima’s scream of pain, she heard the hissing. Before Enoshima could duck away and cover her face, Kirigiri saw her skin begin to blister. The baggie had smacked into Enoshima’s chest, and its contents had exploded through the unclosed top. Enoshima slammed backwards into a wall with the force of a cannonball, leaving a sizeable dent. She collapsed to the floor, clutching her face and behind her, the shadows writhed in an ecstasy of chaos.

“Junko!” She looked over her shoulder just in time to see a gaping maw lined with rows upon rows of teeth. . . which flew past her as Kamukura ran to his girlfriend’s side. She moved away, more rattled than she liked to admit, and made to kick away the knife Enoshima had –

The blood on it wasn’t completely dry.

The world went silent. Not just for her, but for Kamukura was well, as he didn’t hear her as she advanced. He didn’t notice as she towered above her. He didn’t notice her at all until she grabbed one of the crossbow bolts and pressed it into his back so that it broke the skin.

Kamukura cried out. His skin hissed. There was nothing in the air around him and yet the air pulsed and writhed _._ Around the bolt, his clothing arched and then – it was hard to describe – it somehow slipped into his skin like a knife sliding into its sheath. He scrambled away from her, flipping around so that he faced her. Something shifted in the space around her and this time she felt it, she _saw_ it even though there was nothing. She swung the crossbow around and felt the arrowhead catch on something, _tear_ through something. Kamukura screamed, spine snapping straight like a giant had reached down and wrenched it so.

“There’s blood on that knife,” she said. “Whose it is? What did you do!”

She didn’t know if it was her attack on him or his girlfriend that did it or if she was simply becoming more aware, but Kamukura could no longer be mistaken for human. His fangs were back, but it wasn’t just them that had changed. His hair squirmed like a ball of worms and it was growing thicker and longer. His eyes possessed a distinct red tint that grew brighter whenever the light hit them. And there was black creeping up his neck like ink soaking into a cloth.

“ _Whose blood it is?!”_ she screamed at him.

“It’s not his!” Kamukura said, hands held up in surrender. “I promise, we wouldn’t hurt him.”

She jabbed the crossbow in his direction, coming short of making contact, still making him flinch. “Whose is it?”

“Ikusaba,” he finally said. “Ikusaba Mukuro.”

“What? Why?” It wasn’t the time to ask – she couldn’t afford to care about two hostages right now – but she couldn’t stop that reaction.

“It was time,” Kamukura said vaguely. “Junko was going to have to kill her at some point, and there wasn’t much longer she could delay it. It's for her own good. You can’t keep a regular human as a pet if the Elders are going to be around.”

What did that . . .? Whatever. She mentally refocused herself. “Take me to Makoto. Now.”

“My dad will kill you,” Kamukura hissed.

She made a show of slipping her hand into her pocket, as if she had more white powder. Kamukura looked at her with genuine fear and stumbled to his feet.

She expected to be ambushed, but they made it all the way to the confessional without incident. The whole time, it was tempting to jab him in the back with the crossbow, especially since her target seemed to be . . . getting larger. That didn’t matter though. He was still afraid of her. She leveraged that and forced him to go down the stairs first.

As the confessional bench closed behind them, Kamukura’s ahoge lit up. The individual strands of his hair had woven together into single tendril that swayed to its own rhythm. It alternatively pulsed between red and turquoise and she hoped those were the colours of fear.

Kamukura led her down the tunnel that would led to the lake and chains. She already knew what she was going to do: she was going to force him to free Naegi, and then she was going to chain up Kamukura in his place and see how he liked it.

Of course, those plans evaporated once she was close enough.

“Makoto!”

A small bonfire smouldered in the cavern, allowing her to see the limp formed suspended from the chains. She grabbed the back of Kamukura’s collar (it was slimy) and forced him to move faster. She shoved him ahead once they were clear of the tunnel and ran to Naegi’s side . . .

“Ikusaba?”

It couldn’t be anyone else. Ikusaba’s throat had been slit, and blood had caked on her front – it was so dark she hadn’t noticed until now. The jaw hung open; either she had been killed not long ago and rigor mortis hadn’t set in, or she had been killed a while ago and rigor mortis had already passed. When she examined the wrists and ankles, she found no signs of struggling. Ikusaba, it appeared, had allowed herself to be chained and blinded. Had she also known she was going to die?

_Splash._

She whipped around. The lake’s surface was rippling, Kamukura was nowhere in sight, but she could see a shadow moving in the water. At first, she was furious. Then she realized it didn’t matter that much if he got away. She was in the caverns, just as she needed to be.

But without Kamukura to guide her, would this place become a maze again?

She stared ahead into the dark tunnel. She took her flashlight out and turned it on.

There was only one way to find out.

(The answer, it turned out, was no.)

The closer she got to the second chamber, the less she needed the lantern. Blue light came from her destination, from the dozens of paper lamps strung around the room’s perimeter. There were torches too with unnatural ruby-red flames. The two colours combined and fell upon the raised-hand chancel with a purple ambience. The chancel’s finger-like protrusions were also lit by gloomy, dark purple vines that climbed up and around and spread over the ceiling like a web. In the middle of the chancel, a small figure was kneeling.

Yonaga finished her prayer just as Kirigiri reached the bottom of the stairs. Yonaga stood up, turned. Raised her hand and waved.

“Yoo-hoo, Kyoko! I didn’t know they wanted you out yet.”

The crossbow was made of dark wood, which meant Yonaga hadn’t seen it. If she had, she didn’t fear it, as she came running over. . . Or she was in the middle of doing so before she suddenly stopped short. She glanced over her shoulder at something, and then looked back at Kirigiri.

Yonaga said, “You’re armed.”

“Yes. Where’s Makoto?”

“Hm? Makoto can’t leave yet,” Yonaga said. “Nagito still needs to – “

“ _Shut up!_ ” Kirigiri squared her shoulders and aimed the crossbow as she faced Yonaga. “Let’s make this clear. Makoto is coming back with me. If you get in my way, I’ll kill you.”

Yonaga went still. Kirigiri stepped forward -

“ **Enough.** ”

She snapped her eyes to the person at the other end of the room. Hands clasped behind his back, Shinguji strode forward even as the crossbow tracked his every move.

“I do try not to interfere in the business of others,” Shinguji said. His voice as smooth, a complete mismatch for this situation. “I have been content to leave matters to Komaeda, as it is truly discourteous to meddle in the relationship between master and servant. This, however, I will not stand for.”

“Afraid?” she asked. “Do you fear me now that I can hurt you?”

“Hurt me?” A single finger traced the edge of his chin. “No, your threats do not trouble me. However, I will not stand by as you threaten my daughter.”

“Your. . .” He could only be speaking of one person, but that wasn’t possible. Shinguji was about the same age. . . but so was Komaeda. But Yonaga was _human_.

“You doubt me. It is fair to say that I did not contribute to her birth, but nevertheless, I gave her life.” With each sentence, Shinguji took another step forward. “Is it not I who has protected her? I who has guided her? Is it not my star that infuses her soul?”

His . . .star. . .?

“ _I don’t need a scripture like the others do to talk to the Elders, cause Atua’s **right here**_!”

“Atua?” she gasped.

Shinguji inclined his head. “That is one of my many names. Although to you, that would be the one that holds the most meaning. I apologize for the confusion, but it was at Nagito’s request. Just as Hinata went by a false moniker, so did I to prevent you and Naegi from reaching those conclusions too soon. However, I no longer see a need to maintain the illusion.”

“Stay back!” Kirigiri stumbled away from him. Shinguji was Atua, and Atua was one of these Elders and that meant _magnitudes_ more powerful than Kamukura was. Unlike Kamukura, Shinguji demonstrated no fear either. As if he knew she couldn’t hurt him.

. . . But he did have a glaring weakness, didn’t he?

“You have decided not to back down,” Atua said, letting her know he had seen her glance at Yonaga. She could hear his rolling, simmering, godlike fury. “So be it. Then this matter has become one between us.”

It was genuine fear that drove her to point the crossbow at Yonaga to try and keep Atua back. Neither Atua or Yonaga flinched at the action and she wondered why because Yonaga was human, wasn’t she . . .?

She saw it. She had thought the path between her and Yonaga was clear, but it wasn’t. Something, something _large_ was in the way. Something large that extended down from the ceiling. . .

And she understood. Shinguji wasn’t real. Yes, Atua did exist and yes, he was here in this room in this plane of dimension, but the humanoid form in front of her wasn’t real. It was an illusion, a finger puppet to entertain the children; a marionette with its strings controlled off-screen. Atua wasn’t worried because even if she had something that could hurt him, shooting that avatar would be like chopping off his toe. The real Atua was . . .

She looked up.

And she saw Him. Sprawled out across the ceiling, spilling down the walls to the floor, a great branch of Him reaching out and wrapped possessively – protectively? – around Yonaga. His tendrils pulsated with lumps that opened outwards and flexed a million teeth; rose-bud like eyes lay at the base of them, reflecting other worlds, other dimensions, other _universes_ yet all were staring _directly at her_. He had become the cave, and the cave had become Him, because there was no other way for Him to fit.

She dropped the crossbow.

On its fleshy mound, one of Atua’s largest eyes spun a full 360 degrees one way, then the other.

“ _Go ahead, Kirigiri Kyoko: shoot._ ”

She screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:  
> ???
> 
> I got to say, given all the theories that everyone's been throwing around, I am most surprised that no one ever suggested something might be up with Shinguji.
> 
> Q&A:  
> What is the creature in the swamp?  
> Depending on the scene, it's either Junko, Kamukura, Shinugji or Komaeda mucking around in their more natural forms.
> 
> Why is Mukuro blindfolded in that creepy pic with Junko?  
> They were taking a family photo with their mother. However, if Ikusaba accidentally looked directly at her mother, it might kill her so they blindfolded her to be safe.


	57. Chapter 57

_Drip. Drip_

Kirigiri opened her eyes. She rolled onto her back and took a deep, shuddering breath. The damp surface of the rock underneath had soaked through her clothes; her shirt clung to her as she groped her way upright. As she did, she gasped at the pins-and-needles eating their way through her marrow. What had happened? She couldn’t remember, but she certainly felt like someone had grabbed her by the foot and used her as a makeshift flail. The soreness enveloping her body didn’t originate from a place she could pin down; it was simply everywhere. Between layers of skin and inside her bones. At the center of her mind and within each exhale. She could see no injuries, but maybe that had something to do with the way she felt like she had been flayed, and someone had used the sharpest need they could find to sew her back together.

While the soreness was everywhere, there was one spot that felt especially bruised. With weary but steady hands, she peeled down her waistband. She already knew what she would find, but it hit her a like a punch to the gut: the tattoo of Hope’s Peak.

It didn’t rattle her. Not really. Even before looking, she had resigned herself to that. What did surprise her was that she was still within the altar cavern. The only difference was that she had been moved to the edge of the chancel and at the chancel’s center, there was something waist-height, stone and round.

No one stopped her as she walked closer. Coming out of the round container was a chain attached at one end to a stake driven into the hand-like chancel’s palm. The other end ran into the container and underneath the water within. Even with the red flames and the blue lanterns lighting the room, the angle made it hard to see what laid beneath the still surface.

And suddenly, she saw something: a pair of bright, yellow circles.

She scrambled back. Moments later, _something_ breached the surface. The first thing she saw were limbs, two slender that might have been arms that were attached to long claws. The claws flexed, and then sunk into the side of the basin’s walls; when the claws were torn out, water gushed through the holes. The head came next with glowing yellow eyes and a snout-like jaw that didn’t have enough skin to fully hide the teeth. On each side of its neck, three large gills gaped in confusion at the sudden change in environment.

Kirigiri stared.

“Makoto?”

He was both recognizable and completely unrecognizable. His skin had darkened into an onyx with a touch of bronze. Save for his ahoge, the water had calmed and slicked back his usually unruly hair. He still had clothes, but they were soaked and riddled with rips that looked like they came from both tooth and claw. He hadn’t kept his shoes, though. That she learned when he hauled himself out of the water. Naegi didn’t really stand; he straightened up halfway. She stood there, frozen with ~~fear~~ shock as he got closer. . .

He yelped as the chain yanked at the collar around his neck. He stood there, seeming confused. He tried to approach her again, and yelped again as the same thing happened. It was such a nonthreatening display, such a pathetic display, that it staved off her panic.

“Makoto?” she said again.

He reacted, although she didn’t know whether it was to his name or her voice. He went up on the tips of his toes, torso bouncing back and forth as he fought the chain. He made tiny, high-pitched sounds that could only be interpreted as distress. Despite his monstrous appearance, she immediately responded to it and reached for him. . .

Just as he _screeched_. He whipped around so fast that the wake of air it created felt sharp enough to cut. The chain slammed again and again against the ground as he sunk his fangs in and whipped it about like a dog. Just as he seemed to settle down, just as the ghastly racketed quieted and she could think, he suddenly launched at the stake. Sparks jumped as his claws raked against metal and he snapped at it. Finally, he gave up. He flopped off the stake and laid there on his stomach.

She croaked his name once more, and he perked up. He half-crawled, half-scampered toward, settling a small distance away in an uncomfortable-looking crouch where his knees were nearly at the height of his shoulder. He made noises, lots of them. They were nonsensical, but the rhythm to them told her what he was _trying_ to do.

“. . . I can’t understand you,” she said quietly.

Naegi had quieted while she had spoken. He stared at her, cocking his head from one side to the other. Then, he made the noises again. There were no real changes, as if he hadn’t heard her say she couldn’t understand.

. . . Because he hadn’t. Just as she could not longer understand his speech, he could no longer understand hers.

The lack of an understandable response was stressing him. He made more noises, weird ones that were giving her a headache. His ahoge began to glow just as Kamukura’s had. It was a soft blue reminding her of morning skies and baby blankets. Oh. He was closer. She couldn’t remember him moving. Or had she moved? Oh. He was even closer.

Suddenly, the blue light faded. Naegi arched his back, hissed, and then there was a splash as he retreated into the pool. She could see him peering at her right above the edge.

A hand closed around the back of her neck.

“Neat little trick of his, isn’t it?” Komaeda said. “I’m jealous I don’t have that ability. I suppose the gene skipped a generation.”

 She gasped as he nearly cut off her air flow.

“I should kill you,” he said softly. The tips of his claws dug into her skin. “I intended to. It would have been a shame since you were one of my favourite Kirigiris but after what you did, that was the only option.”

His grip tightened. She couldn’t breathe.

“Did you think that I would ignore someone who came into _my_ home and attacked someone who was _mine_? Did you think you were going to walk away from that?”

She was going to die. She twisted violently in his grip, desperately searching for a position that would allow her to draw breath. Her lungs were trying, _trying_ to inhale, but they weren’t expanding with air, but with pressure. They were on the brink of rupture, but she kept trying anyways.

“You’re very lucky that your reaction to Atua was to pass out. That was the only reason I didn’t kill you on the spot – what’s the point if they’re not even awake? I waited for you to wake up and that meant I had plenty of time to think.”

He dropped her and she slammed hard into the ground. She hadn’t even noticed she had been lifted off it.

“I have a question for the world’s _greatest_ detective,” Komaeda said. “Let’s say I had a guard dog, and I trained it to attack everyone who came into my backyard. Then, let’s say one day, I have a kid who tries to sneak into the house through the backyard. Whose fault it is when the dog mauls the kid?”

On her hands and knees, she coughed wretchedly. Komaeda waited for her answer.

Shakily, she said, “He knew the dog was there. He shouldn’t have gone into the backyard.”

“And if he hadn’t known it was there, it would be my fault for not telling him, right?” He stared at her. She nodded. “Ah, I got the Kirigiri stamp of approval. How wonderful! You see what I’m saying, right? In both scenarios, it isn’t the dog’s fault. No matter how much I want to blame you, it wasn’t your fault. You did exactly what I programmed you to do.”

She looked up. “What are you saying?”

“While I was down here licking my wounds from that fight with Tanaka, you were without a master. Obviously, you would revert to your base instincts. You thought Makoto was in danger, so you went after the threat. It was inevitable you would attack someone,” he said with a sigh. “Obviously, I should have added a caveat that you didn’t need to protect him against his own family! ”

Her heart thudded like a rock skipping across water. Komaeda read her face and frowned.

He said, “I told you at the beginning, didn’t I? We’re not a religion. We’re a family.”

Her eyes widened. “All of you . . .”

“Hajime’s my son. Junko, the one _you attacked_ ,” For a few seconds, his eyes were pitch-black, “will be my daughter-in-law. Atua is my cousin, but I think he’s only here because he wanted Angie to have a human friend. Makoto’s my nephew.”

“And what am I?” She didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to know, but she needed to know.

He smiled down at her. “You were the nanny, of course.”

Nanny? She couldn’t help but flash back to her nocturnal activities with Naegi. Those were _not_ the actions of a nanny and their ward. She clung to that thought, raising it like a shield against Komaeda’s onslaught.

“I don’t usually ask my Kirigiris to take on that sort of responsibility,” Komaeda said. “But with Makoto, I had no choice but to give him to you. All because of one pathetic human.”

She shrunk away from the look on his face.

“You know what Ohori did, right?” She didn’t say anything, but he nodded. “Good. I don’t need to explain that. I’ll admit that I wasn’t paying much attention to Makoto that day. It was Hajime’s birthday – I’m sure you understand. I think Makoto manifested something in front of the human. Whatever happened, it turned that human against him.”

“So, you killed him,” she finished.

He nodded. “Yes, I ate him.”

“You . . . ate . . .?”

“Just the body,” he said in a tone that suggested he was offended if she had thought otherwise. “I tore it apart and ate it so I could get to the soul, and then hung onto that. After that . . . Makoto’s _real_ father got a brand-new toy.”

She remembered that tortured spirit pleading with her to die. She should have done it. She should have killed him.

“And that’s where the whole problem started. Makoto wasn’t as unconscious as I thought he was,” Komaeda said regretfully. “It broke him. They’re not supposed to reach twenty without discovering some of their abilities and realizing they’re _special_. But Makoto was so afraid of me, of himself, that he stopped himself from developing. He’s a chick that refused to crack its shell. Even worse, I couldn’t watch over him anymore because he would sense me and panic. Yes, he had his mother, but you humans leave your parents before the age that our children begin to mature. Someone needed to keep an eye on him during those years.”

“. . .Me.”

“Exactly. Someone human who wouldn’t trigger panic, who I knew would die for him and I could trust utterly with his safety. Someone who knew nothing of me so that he wouldn’t catch on. For all Jin’s insistence that he didn’t want to join us, he still served my cause in the end by providing me with you.”

It felt like worms were burrowing into her brain, that Komaeda had pried her skull upon and was stroking her cranium with needles. No, _no!_ Komaeda was a liar, dammit.

“Nothing you said makes sense.” She scrambled to her feet. Her arm swiped through the air. “Why allow him to be separated from you in the first place? Why hybridize your kind with a human? Why wouldn’t you take him in like Kamukura and Enoshima?”

“I didn’t raise Izuru in the church,” Komaeda said. “Izuru was raised by his human surrogates until it was time for him to hatch. Then I brought him here just as I brought Makoto here. It’s fairly standard. There simply aren’t enough of us in this universe that can breed– of course, that’s all about to change – so many of us use lower species as incubators. It cuts the number of us you need in half, you see.”

Incubator. It was a disgusting word with even more disgusting connotations.

“Is that what you think of us? As carriers for your spawn?”

“That is one of your only uses,” Komaeda said cheerfully. “I did say you were one of my favourites, but you are . . . _human_. Your kind isn’t very useful, but at least your species’ inadequacy means that it’s easier to raise our young here. Oh, and your kind is delicious _._ ”

His voice twisted on the last word, like a video whose language had switched for a single syllable. Her lungs rolled up like a ball of yarn to hide. Her eyes unfocused; the image of Komaeda licking his lips split into two identical pictures that circled each other before remerging. From within his pool, Naegi hissed.

“I’m not going to eat you, Kirigiri-san,” Komaeda said. It was hard to believe when she could smell bloody flesh on his breath. “You had another question, right? I’m sure you understand by now just how _simple_ your species is. My kind is much more sophisticated. By the time you humans are fully developed in the womb, we have barely begun. It’s unfortunate, but it means our children are born human; someone like Junko, one of us from birth, is exceptionally rare. And as humans, our young aren’t ready to come face-to-face with their own kind. It’s much safer to allow surrogates and nannies to raise them.”

“So, that’s it. That’s why you brought us together,” she said hollowly. “I started dating him. . . because it was your will.”

“It’s your purpose,” Komaeda said with a bright smile. “To protect him. To nurture him. And when the time came, to bring him to us and make him stay. If you hadn’t there been, he would have fled. I’d be chasing him across the ocean. But the moment he thought I wanted you, he completely forgot about running. He could never leave you in danger.”

She frowned. “He’s hiding right now.”

Komaeda glanced back. He shrugged. “Oh sure, he still loves you in that instinctive, animalistic way of his. But he’s probably having trouble remembering who you are. We shed most of our lower memories when we hatch.”

_He’s . . . forgotten?_

She fell to her knees.

Komaeda took a few steps toward Naegi, who dove into his pool. “Usually, there’s three steps we take to break that human shell. The baptism was easy. The tattoo was trickier, but all Hajime had to do was turn on his deadlight and that kept him subdued. Though I am glad I put you in the cavern during that time. He was still frightened; you would have gone _berserk_. Drinking our blood. . . that was the tough one. I tried easing him into it by mixing it with his food, but a little bit here and there wasn’t going to do anything. . . Unless they’re eating your food for days in a row.”

_This . . . this is my fault . . ._

“I do appreciate that you got him away from that friend of his, as well. I was going to take him back either way once they separated, but it was nice that I didn’t have to wait!”

_My fault . . ._

She was cold, so cold she had grown numb. Her tongue was thick and heavy in her mouth, her stomach churning violently as numb lips struggled to form proper words. “You’re lying. I never tried to help you. I didn’t do this.”

He patted her back. It felt like razors. “This must be confusing. A few months ago, you didn’t know who I was. You can blame Ohori for that, too. If you two had started dating and then Makoto found out you were working with us, he would have left you and I’d be back at the beginning.”

“Because he was already too afraid of you,” she said. “He couldn’t remember you, but he would have instinctively known to run.”

The pieces were coming together. It was a heavy truth that pressed down on her, made her want to lay down, close her eyes and never open them again. Naegi was attacking the chain again, and she watched him without emotion, like he was another piece of the background. This truth, it was all new and yet it felt like she had known all along. Like she had been there with Naegi to watch the aftermath of his father’s horrible decision. . .

Naegi’s father had tried to kill him when he was five.

At five years old, Kirigiri Jin abandoned his daughter.

“This is why chased off my father,” she said. “Because you needed me.”

“He wasn’t one of mine. He’d get in the way,” Komaeda said with a shrug. “Fuhito told me it be much harder to groom you while the other human was there.”

“To groom me into Makoto’s bride.” Her words had inflection this time, but she herself felt nothing.

Komaeda’s lip curled into a sneer. “Don’t give yourself that much credit. You’re a _human_. Your kind is just a stepping stone for our growth.”

“Is he one of those Elders?” she asked quietly.

He looked at her for a long moment. “Is that a real question? Wow. I’m disappointed. You have Elders, too. Like, you know . . . your grandfather?”

“Yes, he is. Then these Elders are just . . .”

“Those who are older than me,” Komaeda finished. “I’m the oldest of my family in this universe. It’s pretty sad.”

“You’re a Deep One,” she said.

Komaeda looked at her for a long time. “I really am disappointed if it took you this long to realize that. Obviously, I am the only reason you became a detective.”

It stung, but not in a painful way. More like a spike of pure pressure was being driven into her chest and her organs were listlessly shuffling out of the way. It was an odd feeling that made her touch the spot above her heart.

“Who am I?” she whispered.

Komaeda sighed heavily. He muttered, “This is the level you can expect from _smart_ humans. You’re Kirigiri Kyoko, my human proxy. Do you need me to explain where you are, now?”

“I’m a puppet.” There was no substance to her words, no force, and yet they echoed. “Everything I did was because of you. Everything I _am_ is because of you.”

“And there’s the greatest detective’s brain at work.” Komaeda’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

She wasn’t a detective. She wasn’t a human. She wasn’t even alive. She was a hollow shell waiting to be filled with her master’s will so that she may have enough mass to move. That was the truth.

Naegi barked. Loudly. Enough to draw both their attention. He froze when he did, as if he hadn’t expected that to work. She could see things writhing in the air around him, things that sprouted from him that no human possessed. They rose off his back like a like dorsal fin, standing on end as Naegi glared at Komaeda and deliberately hissed. Komaeda responded with sounds that grated against her eardrums.

“Amazing. Hatched just a couple of days ago and he’s already picked up so much profanity,” Komaeda muttered. “I knew Junko was up to no good. I’m glad he hasn’t figured out dimension-slipping yet.”

Makoto. For all Komaeda’s talk of family, his insistence that Kirigiri had gotten into her relationship as an extension of him, Naegi was very insistent that he loathed Komaeda and only Komaeda. She clung to that, the only contradiction to Komaeda’s fairy-tale of a happy family.

“He hates you,” she said and she didn’t care if it offended Komaeda; she hoped it did. “Look at him: he despises the air you breathe.”

“Yes, he does.” Komaeda was silent. Then, he said the last thing she expected: “Good. I need him to hate me. I need him to fear me if we’re going to break down that gate.”

“You want him afraid?” She could feel some lost emotion finally stirring, but was it her own emotions that her feelings reflected, or Komaeda’s directive to protect Naegi?

“He has to be,” Komaeda said. “It’s the only way to get his father here.”

Before she could ask, the chancel pulsed. The purple-black vines flashed fuchsia. From the roots upward, they turned a sickly red, the color of blood.

“The time is near. Do you see that?” Komaeda pointed up where the vines overlapped each other to form three interlocking rings. “That is the mark of Yog-Sothoth. He who is the gate, He who knows the Gate, and He who has marked this place because He knew the Elders would break through here. The Elders are on the other side, locked out of this universe as they have been for billions of years. I won’t bore you with the details of why. All you need to know is they were asleep for a long time with no exercise, no food, and it left them too weak to break the gate down. Those of us on this side are their children; we’re not powerful enough to break through the gate either. Nothing is. Except for Makoto’s father.

“Every twenty-five years, the energy here peaks and his father can project part of himself through the gate. It’s not enough to anchor himself; he’ll be pulled back once the night is over. But it’s enough of himself to be seen, to be worshiped, and to sire an heir. On this day twenty-five years ago, Makoto was sired. For once, his father didn’t grow tentacles halfway through or eat the female after they mated!”

Suddenly, the chain flew out of the pool, dragging Naegi with it. Some unseen part of Komaeda was reeling him in and although he fought it at first, Naegi abruptly calmed and let it pull him. She knew why: he was planning to attack.

“Makoto, no!”

But he couldn’t understand her and her shout only made him more eager to fight. Naegi sprung across the last bit of distance and lunged. It ended with Komaeda’s arm around Naegi’s waist, and Komaeda balancing Naegi on his hip like he was a toddler. Komaeda reached over, grabbed Naegi’s chin and yanked it toward him. She bit back a cry; despite everything she had learned, despite knowing he had power leagues beyond her, her weight was on the balls of her feet in anticipation of starting her own fight.

“It hurts seeing him like this, doesn’t it?” Komaeda asked. Naegi was kicking and trying to pry his chin free and it did hurt, it did. “Kirigiri-san, if there was a door between you and you could hear Makoto crying out in pain, how long would it take you to break it down?”

Her mouth was too dry to answer.

“I’ll be honest with you: my brother is an idiot. If he _really_ tried, he could break down that gate anytime, but he’s not motivated. But hearing his _real_ son – not that human shell – crying out in despair?” Komaeda stroked Naegi’s cheek with his thumb. “That will motivate him.”

Komaeda laughed. He set Naegi down, patted his head, and then cursed and shook his arm loose when Naegi’s teeth clamped down on it. What looked like green slime dripped from the wound. Naegi bared his fangs. Komaeda scowled at him, and then pulled out a knife.

“Don’t!” she cried out when Komaeda turned sharply toward Naegi. She didn’t know if she should act on her fear for Naegi, didn’t know whether that part of her was real or Komaeda, but she did anyways. “Don’t hurt him.”

“Hurt him?” A low growl split from Komaeda’s throat. “What do you think I am: a kin-slayer? I wouldn’t hurt him.”

“You said you needed him in pain.”

Komaeda smirked. “Oh, Kirigiri-san. . . I never said the pain had to be physical.”

He stepped toward her. She couldn’t move. The weight of his gaze pinned her to the spot, covered her ears so she couldn’t hear Naegi’s frenetic protests. She should run, shouldn’t she?

(But even as she thought that, it felt like some astral form of her was waiting with its arms held wide, because this was destiny.)

“You won’t be dead forever – not if you choose not to be.” The knife twirled between Komaeda’s ~~claws~~ fingers. “You’ll only be dead for a little while.”

Although she stared directly at Komaeda, it felt like her eyes weren’t working. One moment he was five steps away, the next four, then three. “Is that what you do: kill your servants when they’re no longer useful? Did you kill Ikusaba because she failed to stop Tanaka?”

“Yes, thanks to you again, Ikusaba-san’s _still_ dead,” Komaeda said, annoyed. “Junko was going to revive her, but that’ll have to wait because she’s in recovery. It makes an interesting test of faith though. Will Mukuro’s ghost wait long enough for her sister to return? The silly thing must be wondering if Junko forgot her.”

He was in front of her, breathing her air. (Did he even need to breathe?) The tip of the knife rested against her sternum.

“Why?” she whispered.

“Why? You’re _human_. Oh, right. You’re human. I do need to explain.” Komaeda carelessly let the knife drop to his side, nearly cutting her as he did. “Do you believe Atua loves Angie?”

“The evidence suggests that.” _Evidence_. It felt like a pathetic attempt to reclaim her detective heritage; pathetic because it was meaningless, because she was _nothing_.

“Then why did he allow her to be killed?” Komaeda asked.

It felt like her answer dripped from her mouth like molasses as Komaeda touched her cheek. “I don’t know.”

“It’s because you humans are so fragile.” He flicked one of the fingers on her cheek, and it sliced through her flesh. “See? You can’t even go into space without your lungs exploding. Your physical forms are completely unsuited to serve us, so we tear them down and rebuild them. So, if Atua loved her, then Angie _had_ to die. Atua would have killed her himself if those humans hadn’t done it for him.”

“When I wake up, what will happen?” she asked.

“You serve my family into eternity.” His arm dropped. Her blood stained his claw. “It’s the highest honour we can offer to such a lowly species, but you did a good job with Makoto.”

_The highest honour we can offer. . ._

_Offer. . ._

“. . . N-no.”

Komaeda frowned. “You don’t want it?”

“I don’t. . .” _Why live? What purpose would my life have?_ “Don’t bring me back.”

“Funny. Hajime said that about Nanami,” Komaeda said. “Are you sure? There’s no second chances.”

“Don’t bring me back.” The only thing she could feel was the freezing touch of the tears running down her face. “Let me die. I want to die.”

Because what would she be if she woke up afterwards? What was she _now_? Nothing. She was nothing and had always been nothing. Nothing in her life was real, and nothing about her was real. Nothing would be lost if she disappeared. In fact, the world would be better off without her – better off with one of Komaeda’s limbs severed.

“Well, it would be terrible if I denied you after all your help.” He tilted her chin up. Her breath hitched as the knife rested against her throat. “Thank you for your service, Kirigiri Kyoko.”

_Bang._

The knife was still at her throat, but it didn’t press against it when Komaeda looked behind him. Naegi was on his stomach. The collar lay on the ground a foot behind him.

“Oh, he’s figured out dimension-slipping,” Komaeda remarked.

It took Naegi a couple of tries to get to his feet. She could visibly see him shake off his disorientation. He puffed out his chest wind. Komaeda stepped back as he charged, like someone casually getting out of the way of an irate kitten. The knife was suddenly yanked out of his hand and tossed across the room. Naegi’s cold scales rubbed up against her.

Naegi. _Naegi_. The one she had thought could bring her perfect happiness. As it turned out, he could, but only because Komaeda had programmed it to be so. Naegi, who she had thought she had loved, who had turned out to be the reason for everything.

“Did he. . . did he ever love me?” she asked as tears ran down her face.

“. . . Did you get your question backwards?” Komaeda asked. “You should be asking whether you loved him. Obviously, he loved you. Otherwise, none of this would have worked. I wouldn't be killing you in front of him if he didn't love you. He wouldn't have ever hatched if you weren't there as leverage. I couldn’t even get his gills to grow in properly until I threw you off a cliff. It’s unprecedented!IT's disgusting how attached he is to a lower species.”

“He loves me?” she said quietly.

Everything about her, everything in her life had been a lie. Everything.

Except. . . Except this.

Except that he loved her.

She bawled.

She clutched him to her as tightly as she could, ignoring the inhuman parts she could feel wriggling and twisting around her. She sobbed into his shoulder as snot ran down her face. Cautiously, he licked at her tears and she leaned into the hot touch because she needed his affection, she needed him to love her. He loved her, he loved her and who cared if her feelings for him were her own because his feelings for her were _real_.

Komaeda studied them. His lips twitched into a smile. “Do you still want to die, Kirigiri-san?”

“No! No!” She could say nothing but that word. A voice in her head reminded her of why she had refused, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the choice that would allow her to stay with him forever, to preserve the part of her was was truly real forever.

“Excellent!” Komaeda said. “I’m glad you changed your mind. I’m not sure how I would have gotten back in Makoto’s good graces without bringing you back. Then let it be so. Honour this day, Kirigiri-san: this is the day you were truly born.”

Komaeda laughed and. . . and she did, too. Naegi looked at her with concern as she laughed and laughed and couldn’t stop. She rested her forehead against His and ran her hands down His face.

“What happens when the gate falls?” she asked.

“His father will be the first to cross,” Komaeda said. “The others will sense the fall and come rushing through . . . right onto this wonderful planet full of food! The congregation is upstairs; they get the mercy of being eaten first. Ah, death will truly be a blessing for them. Atua’s collected his chosen and the others we owe and has brought them to his preserve, so everyone left here is fair game! After that, the Elders will spread out through the universe and my kin will reclaim their rightful place.”

“How wonderful,” she said, not actually caring. Naegi sniffed her and hooted. “I suppose His father would be grateful.”

“Of course, he will be. He’s got to be. I am tormenting his son, but I’m sure once I explain why, he’ll understand. He was very angry about the confessional. . . but I’m sure he’s forgiven me. I just wanted Makoto to see his real father. . . and almost broke him because he wasn’t ready.” For the first time, Komaeda seemed uncertain. “Maybe he’ll knock me around a little, but I’m his little brother. I’m sure he won’t kill me. . . Of course not . . .”

She nodded, not listening.

Komaeda grimaced. She could see it even as his body swelled. “Let’s get this over with.”

Komaeda’s titanic shadow fell over them, blotting out the ceiling. Naegi craned His head up and He went stiff. Try as He may, even Naegi was no match for the clawed wing that swooped down and split them apart. A scaled hand closed gently around him, the eight claws careful not to brush against vulnerable skin as Komaeda held him back. Kirigiri felt something brush against her throat.

“We’ll see you in a little while,” Komaeda said.

It didn’t hurt.

She fell to the ground. Komaeda released Naegi and He ran over. He dropped to his knees next to her, shouting, pressing His hands against the huge gash on her neck. She wanted to tell Him it was alright, that they would be together soon, but she was no longer capable of words. He was crying.

Colours faded bit by bit, as did the sound of Naegi’s scream. Yet, she still heard it before everything disappeared:

Somewhere far, far away, something had answered Naegi’s scream with a roar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're familiar with Eldritch horror, you probably saw the Bad End coming from like the halfway mark. Regardless, thank you for sticking through to the end and I hope you aren't too bummed out that almost everyone is dead meat! But seriously, thank you to everyone who has read this story, and especially to those who have commented. Now here's a fun post-credit scene:
> 
> Komaeda: My brother! How wonderful it is to -  
> Naegi's father: *swats Komaeda across the room*  
> Komaeda: Oh, so you are mad, huh? I see. That's . . . Why don't you stay over there and we can talk this over. . .? Oh fuck.
> 
> I'm afraid that's the only beat-down Komaeda's going to get in this story... Cause I'm saving the _real_ Fuck You Komaeda show for my next story, _From The Ashes._ As I mentioned before, this is a sequel to _The Lion's Den_ and won't make much sense if you haven't read that. If you want to talk more about this story or that upcoming one, comment away or you can now pm me under the name arcawolf at tumblr. I think that's how it works at least. I literally just made an account.
> 
> Once again, thank you for reading this story!


End file.
